


Le Café Crème

by samalamb



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Slow Burn, barista!jefferson, bottom!hamilton, motivational speaker!hamilton, that coffee shop au no one asked for but totally needed, top!jefferson, updates every sunday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 00:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16587191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalamb/pseuds/samalamb
Summary: Alexander was enjoying his life - it was simple, easy, and fun.  Great job, perfect friends, and he was comfortable.That was until an old rival resurfaces in the weirdest of places - because seriously, where did Jefferson get off being abarista?





	1. Enter, Jefferson

**Author's Note:**

> this came out waaaaay longer than i thought it would (somewhere around 60k, woopsie daisy and im still not even done)
> 
> but hey hello hi! its not beta'd (where do you even get one???) but i had this thought bubbling and i just had to get it down 8D
> 
> so have the coffee shop!au no one asked for but totes needed. but with a barista!thomas and confused wanting answers alexander
> 
> enjoy ^^

_ “This… this isn’t what it looks like.” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ The man grimaced. _

Alexander woke up.

His head gave him an instant reminder of last night's events, throbbing at the barest hint of light through his curtains and he rolled over with a groan.  He didn’t want to get up just yet.

With one hand holding the pillow like a protective barrier between him and the morning sun, his other grappled through the sheets blindly for his phone.  Faring the bright illuminated screen with a hiss, he stared at it with squinted eyes until the blurs took form and the white light no longer threatened him tears.

Four new messages.

With a deft thumb he flicked through them, a smile gracing his features.  All from his friends.

  * (6:09 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** yo ham, my friend my brother, why the -fuck- did i let you give me those last few shots i am not coming into work today this is it im dead telling HR you killed me thnx


  * (6:12 a.m.) **literalhercules:** Dont listen to John hes being a baby.


  * (6:13 a.m.) **frenchfuck:** non non, mon coeur is jesting, because john is always a baby.  our freckled friend is merely showing his true colours


  * (6:13 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** uhm??? rude??? i am riddled with hungover death alex support me



Alexander let out a snort, rolling to lay on his stomach and chin digging into his pillow.  With bleary eyes he typed out his response, legs swishing in the air while his thumb tapped enter.

  * (6:26 a.m.) **alexham:** sorry i have standards john



A couple minutes passed.

  * (6:30 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** thats it fucker you and me sundown by the starbutts its over, herc ur my second


  * (6:31 a.m.) **frenchfuck:** ooooh can i be the doctor?



Alexander let out a short laugh, mirth filling him.  He enjoyed talking to them - they’d been friends ever since he chance met them in a bar, when he found out his idol Aaron Burr was actually a passive  _ asshole _ who was nothing like what his blog made him out to be.  At the very least he wasn’t just a passive douche - he could be a unwittingly funny passive douche at times.    


As it was, he had a good entourage of friends.  A good job that he’d certainly have to start drafting out some more speeches for if he wanted to stay ahead.  And a good life, overall.

He turned to look out the window, already the hustle of the city could be heard, various whitenoise of human chatter and the blaring of car horns.  Unfortunately, good life didn’t imply sleeping in as late as he wanted. 

With a resigned sigh he stood from his bed, stretching his arms above his head and listening to the satisfying pops and cracks of his bones as they slotted against each other.  He scratched listlessly at his stomach, making rounds around the piles of clothes and other items he’d left on the floor from days of being simply too lazy to clean. 

He preferred the term ‘too busy’ but if he tried that one Lafayette would be on him in seconds.

After finding one shirt that wasn’t  _ too _ bad he shrugged into it.  Fitting into last night's jeans with a few hops he shoved his way through his door and into his kitchen-living room area.  The area was kept enough, if you asked him. Lived in couch, a TV still running and wasting his electricity, and a coffee table overflowing with papers and books.

There were other amenities of course, bookshelves dilapidating under the weight of their occupants, lamps and clothing bin and other odds and ends that was thrust on him solely because his friends said his apartment was sad.  Mostly Lafayette, but when Mulligan mentioned his rooms needed sprucing, Alexander figured that perchance they were on to something.

However, old dogs were privy to keeping their ways, so he went from everyone hanging at his place to the gang crashing at Lafayette’s luxurious home.  The frenchman would never admit to dousing it in bleach whenever they met up there. It was only decent, Alexander assumed, considering whenever they  _ did _ get together there was often drinks involved.

And that lead to liquor on expensive french couches, and vomit just shy of sinks or toilets and the howling of Lafayette’s cleaning supplies.

Still, the frenchman never told them to  _ not _ come over, and he wasn’t exactly an innocent party when it came to trashing a place for a night of fun.

Alexander smiled to himself, shoveling cereal into his mouth and dumping the bowl onto his impressive stack of dishes.  He liked to think it displayed his awesome prowess in tetris.

Pulling out his phone he sent a text to his friends, telling them to suck it up, before he found with minimal distaste his coffee grinds was dangerously low.  So low, in fact, that when he attempted to make a somewhat satisfactory drink with them, it came out more water than pisscoffee.

He sighed, glaring down at the meager amount of black grinds.  Unfair, as he didn’t want to leave the house just yet and although he  _ could _ be sleeping right now, he was a creative.  And that meant sleep was for boring people with no drive or imagination.

He was on a tangent, but he was both equally parts tired, equally parts  _ unable _ to sleep if he wanted to - three hours a night was more his thing - and also depressingly out of coffee.

He checked his phone, just five past seven, and cafes were usually open this early, right?  He shrugged into his jacket, toeing in his shoes before exiting his apartment and locking the door behind himself.  The neighborhood he lived in was safe enough to not, but Alexander grew up in less savoury areas, and the memories lingered well enough that he double checked his locks before pulling up google maps.

Searching for cafes near him, a little red notch popped up only a ten minute walk away, Le Café Crème, and he pinged for directions and began his way.

-

The walk wasn’t too bad, short and sweet, and he spent the entire time tapping furiously away on his phone, writing a few new lines for his speech and ever grateful his periphery saved him from poles and random passerbyers.  He was just getting to the good part, a line that would really invigorate the people, before google rudely interrupted, that oddly feminine robotic voice,

“ _ You have arrived at your destination. _ ”    


He snorted, exiting out of the map program and double checking to ensure he didn’t lose his tangent.  Confident it’d be fine, he pocketed his phone and entered the small cafe. The front was cute enough, two intricate black metal tables outside with equally crafted chairs, and the inside had a distinctly  _ french _ vibe.  A painting of the Eiffel tower hung over one wall, and a few others scattered about with a victorian style of people and paint.

He nodded, approving and reminding himself he should drag Lafayette along next time.

There was a short line, and with practiced ease he threw himself back into his writings while walking up to the front.  Arriving at the desk he squinted over to the small menu they had thankfully, seated right by the cash register.

Without looking up Alexander read out his order.

“I’ll have a large iced latte,” and with a hum of thought, “oh, can I get whip cream on that?  Also an extra shot, I need enough to drown my veins in caffeine.” He said, and he was used to receiving a chuckle in return, or at least a quick breath of amusement.

What he wasn’t used to, however, was an almost shocked gasp followed with seconds of no movement to take the money he handed out, still without looking up from his phone.       


“What?”  He snapped out, irate because  _ rude _ , and because he’s still exhausted and hasn’t had any coffee yet.

But upon looking up to finally meet the eyes of the worker, and finding with mild annoyance he had to crane his neck before he finally hit deep brown eyes and - oh.

Okay.

So he shared his own shocked gasp.

“ _ Jefferson _ ?”  He sputtered out, and it  _ couldn’t _ be.

Oh, but it was.

There, standing behind the counter in all his southern rich boy glory, was Thomas fucking Jefferson, wearing an  _ apron _ , with his stupid crazy hair pulled back into a mock ponytail that looked… eerily familiar on his person.    


Alexander swallowed, awestruck because the world just turned up on it’s own head.

Never in a million years did Alexander think he’d ever be privy to see something like this.  Because last time he’d seen Jefferson was back in Uni, and the man was ever so preferable to the colour purple and anything that was at least a couple hundred dollars.  He was well kept, filthy stinking rich, and always equipped with a grin so smug Alexander was sure it could power a third world nation.

Except standing before him, was  _ nothing _ like what Alexander knew of him.

His hair wasn’t the usual styled mess, just lazy and tied back, purely perfunctory.  His white button up had stains peeking from behind the black crisp apron, and his face had - he had  _ bags _ .  And  _ glasses _ . 

Last Alexander checked, Jefferson was the perfect picture of urbane.

A few seconds of silence, before this Jefferson-not-Jefferson cleared his throat, “... Hamilton.”  The man said, and his voice was deep, southern twinge to it that made it warm, but entirely lacking the smug undertone that usually made Alexander’s hackles raise.

As it was, Alexander was stuck without proper footing.

“You, ah, are,” Alexander coughed a little into his elbow, “I see you’re working here.”  He ended with lamely. But how could he not mention? Last he heard Jefferson was being transferred to some Uni in Virginia to be closer to family or something.  He didn’t know, Alexander really didn’t make it his personal job to keep up with the dick.

So nothing he knew currently helped aussauge his confusion.    


“Yeah, I do.”  Jefferson responded, and the dismissive air of it had little red flags in Alexander’s mind.

“Weren’t you-”  Alexander began, ready to ask probably insensitive question after the other, before Jefferson cut through him.

“That’ll be four ninety-five, thank you.”

Something about _ Jefferson _ giving him customer service made Alexander’s stomach roll, and he grimaced while rehanding the taller man the money he’d previously dropped in shock.

“Please, don’t do that, you’re gonna make me sick.”  Alexander said, shuffling his feet when Jefferson took the bills.

“Do what?  My job?” Jefferson drawled, and yeah - that?  That was weird. Jefferson’s  _ job _ that didn’t involve being a CEO of some big time business, as Alexander was so sure he’d wont to do.

Alexander glared up at the taller man, and there it was, the same spark of annoyance and anger that the Virginian so easily pulled from him.  “Yeah, that.” Alexander snipped out, and he found with shocking relief that some light was finally in Jefferson’s eyes, glaring back down at him equally as hard.

“Sorry, princess,” Jefferson hummed out, turning around to set about making his drink, and Alexander glared at his back to ensure he didn’t fuck up his order, “but then the boss would have my head, and I kinda’ enjoy paying my bills.”

More of…  _ normalcy _ from Jefferson and Alexander was going to quite literally vomit.

Instead of showing his discomfort, Alexander turned to rest his lower back against the countertop, arms crossing and refusing to face the other.  He raised his head, looking at the painting of the Eiffel tower with a thought, “What? Daddy and Mommy got sick of buying you shit?” He asked, haughtily.

Jefferson laughed, which was weird, and enough for Alexander to turn and face him because his old rival wasn’t supposed to be amused with what he said - Alexander was aiming to upset the man.

The taller man just chuckled softly, laughter dying down but shoulders still shaking with it, and Alexander watched it, transfixed.

“You could say that.”  Jefferson said, low and quiet, and he turned around to hand Alexander a drink with entirely too much whipped cream on top.  The white substance almost spilling over the side and Alexander grabbed it from him, greedy, and swiped at the cream with a thumb before it glopped over and made a mess.

Jefferson said nothing at the display, turning to wipe down the espresso machine he just used and Alexander stayed where he was, thankful no line built at his back.

Then, struck brilliant with an idea, he fished his phone out of his pocket.  Going to snapchat he surreptitiously called out Jefferson’s name.

The man turned to him, curious, and glared with shock when he realized Alexander both had his phone out and was recording.

“Solid proof the worlds ending guys, look who I found in an  _ apron _ -”  Alexander managed to say, before the enraged Virginian quite literally attempted to vault the counter, superior length of arms almost reaching the other man before Alexander jumped out the way.

“Hamilton, do  _ not _ -”

“Sent!”  Alexander chirped out, and he sipped at his espresso, laughing around his straw.

Jefferson shot him a nasty glare, looking ready to belt out some form of long and impressive set of insults when a small woman stepped out from what looked like the kitchen area.  Alexander watched impressed as Jefferson’s posture changed entirely, and he went from angry storm to gentle rolling sea, shooting the woman a cautious smile.

“Thomas, a friend of yours?”  She asked, thick french accent present, and Alexander held back a laugh at the conniption of emotions that spread over Jefferson’s face.

“I… no.”  Jefferson ended with.  The woman looked less than impressed.

“Well, then bid this nice man adieu, I need some help in the back with the top shelves, and you are the only one here tall enough to reach it.”

“I’m the literal only other person here, ma’am.”  Jefferson deadpanned back, and Alexander felt like he should have already left, uncomfortable watching Jefferson pleasantly interact with something that wasn’t purple or rich.

The woman laughed, and clapped Jefferson on the back.  “Fair point, anywho, I’ll take over the front.”

“Right, thanks.”  Jefferson said, ducking through the low doorway of the kitchen and Alexander took that as his cue to leave.

“Thanks for coming, hope to see you again!”  The woman called after him, pleasant smile and wave and Alexander hurried his way out of the cafe.  Oddly bothered and feeling off kilter, he figured some good old writing would set him straight.

-

  * (12:38 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** do my eyes deceive me? was that our little renegade from uni?


  * (12:42 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** hoooooly -shit- is that jefferson??? is he wearing an -apron- im s p i t t i n g



Alexander paused in his writings, turning from his laptop to stare down at his phone buzzing away on the table.  He was currently cross legged on his couch, his pc balanced precariously on his knees as he typed at it furiously.

Picking it up, he laughed, glad to see his friends finally dragged themselves out of bed and saw his early morning snap.

  * (12:45 p.m.) **alexham:** you should have seen it, he told me -thank you- and handed me change 


  * (12:46 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** r u sure he didnt poison ur drink


  * (12:46 p.m.) **alexham:** seeing as im still alive and i finished the whole thing i think he held the arsenic


  * (12:47 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** he should never wear his hair as such, he looks bad



Alexander rolled his eyes.

  * (12:48 p.m.) **alexham:** youre just saying that bc he looks like you


  * (12:48 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** he doES NOT LOOK LIKE ME TAKE THAT BACK


  * (12:48 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** I PULL THIS LOOK OFF WAY BETTER


  * (12:49 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** MON COEUR TELL HIM


  * (12:50 p.m.) **literalhercules:** I thought you guys used to be friends?


  * (12:51 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** -was- friends, mon petite amour, hes a dirty cheat


  * (12:52 p.m.) **literalhercules:** Huh.


  * (12:52 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** i am above consorting with those types, mon ami



Alexander scrunched his brow a that, but shrugged his shoulders.  Old friendships had nothing to do with him.

The chat was silent for a moment, like everything had to pause at the mention of whatever went down previous, before John piped up again.

  * (12:55 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** aaaanyways guys ignoring that weird shit, we down to hang out tomorrow


  * (12:56 p.m.) **alexham:** we legit just hung out and you fucks didnt wake until now


  * (12:56 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** says the dude who -didnt- drink a truckload



Alexander sniffed.

  * (12:57 p.m.) **alexham:** i drank enough, unlike you guys, my work requires me day and night


  * (12:58 p.m.) **literalhercules:** Im not good this week, yesterday was all I had.  I have a shitload of orders to get down, and with a fashion show next month, Im pretty booked.


  * (1:00 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** would you like some help with the designs?


  * (1:01 p.m.) **literalhercules:** I doubt my clients want frills and lace, Laf.



Alexander put his phone down, deciding against reading through another creative argument between his friends.  Mulligan would be busy coming up with designs for his next debut, and Alexander prided himself on not keeping up to date with fashion trends, unlike his other friends.    


John avoided it, but sharing an apartment with Mulligan made it hard to dodge being a model for whatever Lafayette convinced the designer to stitch up.

Alexander was putting the finishing touches on his speech, pleased with it, before his stomach alerted him that food was actually a thing organic beings needed to keep going.

Reluctantly he set aside his laptop, standing and almost falling over when his legs promptly reminded him they’d fallen asleep.  Shaking his legs out he found himself then sitting on his countertop, old containers shoved to the side as he munched on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, legs swishing about as he absently scrolled through his twitter with his free hand.

Something itched at him, a niggling thought, and he followed the tendril until he found himself on snapchat, staring at the video he saved without really meaning too.

_ Solid proof the worlds ending guys, look who I found in an apron- _

_ Hamilton, do not- _

He laughed a little, coughing when the food he was chewing gave him a rude signal that eating and laughing was a bad mix.  Downing some water, he went back to watching the small looping video, transfixed.

It was like watching a trainwreck, something so terrible you couldn’t look away.  Jefferson in an apron, looking normal and human and tangible, and not distant and regal like he was above them all.

It wasn’t until the twentieth loop that he realized exactly what he was doing.

He jumped down, exiting out of the app and laughing at himself.

Time to get back to work.

-


	2. We Close at Three

_ “That’s hard to believe.” _

_ He could say nothing in turn. _

It wasn’t until a week passed in mild obscurity and the whole Jefferson thing blurred to the back of his mind that Alexander realized he ran out of coffee grinds again.

Nothing of import happened, except Friday when John nearly broke Mulligan’s mannequin he used to sew on which was such a fiasco as apparently it was some special gift from Lafayette or the other. But aside, it was a blur of speeches and clients and writing and more writing and Alexander’s apartment only built up more clutter during then. 

He’d cocooned himself, and his safe bubble of the outside world being nothing but distant noise was disrupted with his coffee pot sputtering pitifully at him.

Great.

Searching the cabinets he realized two things, one - he really needed to go shopping sometime soon before he was resorted to eating jars of peanut butter again, and two - he needed caffeine before he did that.

Time for another cafe stop.   


Leaving his home, locking it and checking it twice, he pulled out his phone. Looking up cafes pulled up a familiar name, and he blinked.

Le Café Crème.

Oh yeah.

Jefferson worked there.

He rocked on his feet, chewing on his lower lip as he weighed the pros and cons of going there again. There was another cafe, ten minutes passed that one, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing his old nemesis from Uni again.

On the other hand, he couldn’t deny his curiosity over Jefferson working in a cafe, of all places. He was so sure the man became some big shot in Virginia or whatever, but here he was, in the heart of New York, working at a small time coffee shop. Wearing aprons and lazy ponytails that lacked finesse and glasses. He had glasses. Alexander never knew that.

There was also the point that Lafayette and Jefferson used to be friends.

He shrugged, pulling up the directions to double check his way before deciding fuck it - it was close by, and Alexander was ever the curious sort.

-

Alexander noticed, as he entered this cafe for the second time, it had a small bell attached to the door, and it jingled as he entered. He looked up from his phone, packing it away in the confines of his pockets and saw with a blink this time Jefferson wasn’t behind the counter.

And the cafe was empty.

He looked around, and gestured with his throat for Jefferson to notice his presence.   


The tall man looked up from his task of wiping down tables, and conveyed only a small jolt of shock from the slight widening of his eyes at seeing Alexander again. He had earbuds in, and he pulled one out to shoot Alexander an unimpressed look. He pointed one finger above Alexander’s head, and Alexander was only minimally confused.   


“What?” He asked, looking up at the clock and crossing his arms, defensive.

Jefferson shook his head, and Alexander’s eyes traced the bounce of his curls.

“It’s three, Hamilton.”

“So?”

Jefferson rolled his eyes, “We  _ close _ at three.” He said, southern twang as he seemed to glide around Alexander, movements well rehearsed.

“Oh.” Alexander said.

Jefferson said nothing, back to Alexander as he flipped chairs upside down and set them on the tops of tables. It wasn’t a task that took long, the inside of the cafe only had four, and with a short look outside, Alexander realized with mild embarrassment the tables outside had already been put away. He’d been too fixed in his phone to notice.

But now he was fascinated by an entirely different sort of thing. Watching Jefferson work with practiced motions, like he’d done this hundreds of times before. _ He probably has _ , a voice hissed in the back of his mind,  _ been living a completely normal life, jobs and bills and all _ .

Alexander didn’t know why that bugged him, made him fidget.

It felt wrong, somehow. Like there was a puzzle piece he was missing.

Jefferson had put up all the chairs and pushed tables to the wall before he turned to give Alexander another look.

“You still here?” He asked, genuinely confused at the sight of Alexander on his cafe’s doorstep.

Alexander shuffled his feet. He mumbled something then, hands in pocket, and Jefferson tilted his head.

“Care to speak up? Not all of us wait on your every word.” And oh, the familiar sting of a jab. Alexander shot him a heated look.

“I need coffee grinds.” Alexander all but spat.

Jefferson stared at him. “... Okay, go buy some then.”

Alexander snorted. “The nearest store is too far away, and I’d rather have caffeine in me before I go walking there.” He justified, and Jefferson lidded his eyes.

“And that’s my problem how?” And maybe it was the way the taller man pronounced ‘how’, drawn out like he had all the time in the world to speak, lazily mopping the floor as he did so, but Alexander snapped a little.

Striding into the store, he grabbed at the nearest bag of coffee grinds still yet to be put up proper, and near slammed it on the counter. He was angry, and Jefferson wasn’t  _ helping _ and he turned to glare at the Virginian, who was busy looking appalled at Alexander’s actions to do much but stay where he was, leaning on his mop stick.

“I wanna buy this.” Alexander said.

“Too bad, go to the store.”

Alexander shook his head, jabbing his finger to the register. “No, I wanna buy  _ this _ and it’s only five past closing,” he said, a pointed look around the nearly fully closed cafe, “am I to assume your boss is gonna believe you did all this in five minutes?”

Jefferson shot him a dirty look, “are you threatening to call my boss on me?” The man asked, eyes wide and expression incredulous.

Alexander just crossed his arms tighter, glaring up at him. “Yes, now be a good worker and sell me this.” He didn’t know why he was so upset, but he was, and Jefferson was obviously to blame. With his apron, and glasses and  _ mopping _ like he didn’t believe he was above such menial things.

Not that he was, but it was the principle of the matter. This was Jefferson, and he was a snobby asshole. Not some _ barista. _

Jefferson fumed, eyes squinting and mouth hanging open in indignation. His grip on the mop was white knuckled, and Alexander guiltily avoided his gaze, keeping his eyes trained on the countertop.

He wanted to make coffee when he got home.

Jefferson was in the way of that.

Still, the almost hurt look hidden in Jefferson’s brown eyes made Alexander shift where he stood.

He felt more than heard Jefferson stomping his way around the counter, the register making sharp clicking sounds in the silence of the cafe’s interior while the worker jabbed at it’s keys.

“Twelve ninety-nine, thanks.” Jefferson hissed at him, cheeks darkened with anger and Alexander rummaged for his wallet. 

“Thirteen for one small bag? That’s thievery.”

“That’s called  _ tax _ , you little shit, now get the hell out.” Jefferson snapped, snatching the money and damn near tossing the penny Alexander’s way. He caught it barely, fumbling when the coffee grinds was shoved his way and he glared up at the taller man.

“What happened to customer service?” He asked, and Jefferson shot him a nasty look.

“Boss ain’t here, and yer’ not exactly deservin’ of my southern hospitality at the moment.” Jefferson bit out, smile all teeth, before promptly turning the counter, shoving the earbuds back in, and resolutely ignoring Alexander as he mopped the floor.

Alexander only stood there for a few more moments, feeling stupid like he just shoved his foot in his mouth.

He left, shooting one last look over at Jefferson, and swallowing hard at the defeated slump of the man’s shoulders.

-

And when he found himself later, drinking the coffee, way too late at night to be sane and typing away at his laptop, Alexander allowed himself to feel guilty.

-

  * (7:12 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** aaleeeeexxaander u uuuuuuuuuup



Alexander blinked through the haze of exhaustion, grappling for his phone and reading the message with bleary eyes.

  * (7:13 a.m.) **alexham:** am now. what are you even doing up its your day off



He typed back, huffing out a breath and rolling to lay on his stomach.

  * (7:13 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** oh i havent slept wanna hang out later today


  * (7:14 a.m.) **alexham:** you… havent slept


  * (7:14 a.m.) **alexham:** why


  * (7:15 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** bc laf n herc kept me up all -night- bc they needed a model to sew on and i might have ingested like ten pounds of coffee



Alexander snorted.

  * (7:15 a.m.) **alexham:** dont you mean quarts, liquids cant be measured by pounds


  * (7:15 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** shut up thats stupid anyways lets hang out!!!!


  * (7:16 a.m.) **alexham:** i dont know maybe you should sleep first


  * (7:16 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** sleep is for the weak now cmon!!! like old times lets dick about a mall or sumthin cmooooooon


  * (7:16 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** cmon


  * (7:16 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** cmoooon


  * (7:16 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** cmmoooooooooooooon



Alexander watched with mild horror as his friend rapid fired at least ten more messages of ‘come on’ until he gave him a reply.

  * (7:18 a.m.) **alexham:** we can watch a movie later tonight, because hanging out at the mall is gonna make me feel old


  * (7:19 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** fuck. yes. ill try to rope laf and herc into it. usual mall aaaaaaat


  * (7:19 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** six??? six.



Alexander rolled his eyes.

  * (7:20 a.m.) **alexham:** see ya there, and get some sleep


  * (7:21 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** heeeell yeaaa :)))))



Alexander got out of bed then, rest successfully disturbed by his possibly manic from sleep deprivation friend, and glared at the chaotic mess his room was.

It had been two weeks since Alexander had really made an effort to clean at all, too caught up in work. And it had also coincided with the last time Alexander had seen Jefferson, and so maybe he put in extra effort avoiding the small cafe. The sight of Jefferson’s slumped shoulders bothered him more or less.

But two weeks flew by, and he figured that despite his practical allergy to cleaning, he’d have to get some of that done, now. And not to mention he was seriously running out of clothes.

Plus cleaning might make him feel a little better, his chest having felt compressed since his last interaction with Jefferson.

Hours later, music jamming through his apartment because who cleaned to silence, he’d discovered with pride he spent almost five hours cleaning. His home was starting to actually look like a  _ home _ , and though he also thought he should start on some more work, he wasn't scheduled for any public speaking and he was already speeches ahead.

Checking his work email on his phone on the off chance any of his clients messaged him, he whistled and settled to sit on his now clean kitchen top.   


It felt kind of nice, to be surrounded by a cleanly home, but he knew himself enough to know no promise he made now to start being more hygenic with the place would change his ways.

It’ll only take a week for this place to be a pigsty, so he’d appreciate it for what it is now.

He looked at his coffee pot, and then at the small bag folded neatly over itself, almost empty with where the clip was keeping the contents pinned in place.

He jumped down, picking it up and staring at the label, Caribbean Roast, and snorted. He knew what coffee tasted like from there, had  _ lived _ there for his formative years, and he hadn’t noticed it’s label when he grabbed it at random. It made him swallow a little more harshly than he intended, whenever he stared too long at the name and unwanted memories rose unbidden to lap at his feet much like a wave to sand. 

He blinked, twice, realizing he was going nowhere fast in his mind before throwing the bag away, as it was practically empty anyways.

Storms and seagull cries echoed in his mind, and he shook his head firmly, reminding himself it wasn’t real, stupid silly thoughts, and put his clothes in the dryer. He stayed pressed against the top of it, hands planted firmly on the shaking machine, and let the vibrations keep his mind numb.

-

Two rolled around, and he successfully cleaned his place from top to bottom, and with a gleeful grin, he actually had an assortment of clothes to choose from.   


He even found his old university sweater, shrugging into it and appreciating the bulk of it. Winter would be hitting them soon, with December right around the corner, and he figured he’d be needing to get his jackets and sweatshirts out of hiding. As it was now, the pleasant chill of outside would turn biting, and Alexander liked to be prepared for it.

He was used to warm weathers, and though he enjoyed his life he’s made for himself in New York, he would never quite get used to the chill of snow and ice.

Dressed for the day and still hours from when he would be needing to leave he prepared himself a meal, only when he went to make coffee, did he realize he tossed out the last of his grinds. He cursed under his breath, annoyed but too prideful to dig through his own garbage for whatever remained of that bag in particular.

With a sigh, he looked around, eerie in the quiet apartment - having long since turned off the music - and figured some writing outside would do him good. He put his laptop into his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder and double checked his locks as he left the apartment.

He had no real destination in mind, but he was peckish, his sandwich from earlier not filling enough, and he was craving caffeine. It was no surprise he chose to make his way to Le Café Crème, and even though he’d rather never face Jefferson again, the coffee they made was actually pretty good, better than the big time corporations.

And this time he’d be there  _ before _ they were closing, so, Jefferson had nothing to complain about.

-

Two thirty three and Alexander made his way through the doors, the small jingle of the bell signalling his entrance and this time the woman was up front. Alexander didn’t know why his body slumped, if only a little, in small disappointment.

She looked up to smile at him, and as he neared the counter Alexander realized this woman was absolutely tiny, her head barely reaching his chest and he wasn’t exactly tall himself. She shot him a cheery look, standing up and righting her hat that bore the cafe’s logo.

“Welcome to Le Café Crème!” She greeted, and he nodded, “what can I do you for?” She asked, and he looked around at the selection of snacks they had. Baked cookies and treats and even some cakes. He wasn’t subtle about wanting one, certainly, when she gave a soft laugh.

“Hungry?”

Alexander hummed in response, and he looked up at her from where he was leaned over, inspecting the various confectionates.   


“Which is your best?” He asked, and she tilted her head, a mock thinking face taking up her soft features.

“Thomas is too good at his job, it’s hard to choose.” She said with a laugh, and Alexander’s spine stiffened.

_ Jefferson _ baked these?

His mind sputtered images of the man in a ridiculous chef get up, covered in flour and sugar and what have you, and he barely contained a snort. Yeah, right.

“But if I had to, I’d say the _gateau au chocolat_ is the best. He is excellent at capturing the essence of french desserts. None too sweet.” She said, cutting through his minds procured images and he stood then, unsure if he wanted to eat something baked by Jefferson of all people.   


But then his stomach growled, too quiet for the girl to hear but loud enough for him to be aware of his hunger.

“I’ll take one, and can I also get an large iced latte, extra shot, with whipped cream?” He said, nodding to her and digging his wallet out of his pocket.

“Sure thing. For here or to go?” She asked with a smile, tapping away at the register.

He thought only for a moment, before deciding, “for here.”

His eyes kept darting around, only one other customer sans himself, and he was wondering where Jefferson was. The past two times he’d been there, it was only this woman and Jefferson, and considering the hours, maybe it was only these two.

He couldn’t place why that bugged him.

“Nine twenty five, thank you.” She said, looking up at him with bright, kind eyes, and he dumbly handed her a ten. He took the seventy five cents and put them in a pocket, grabbing at the cake she handed him, fork balancing on the plate as he sat at the table to the far right.   


It was close to the large glass windows that was the cafe’s walls to the outside world, and when he turned to look behind himself, he was front row seat to the large Eiffel tower painting.

On impulse he pulled out his phone, snapping a shot and sending it to Lafayette.

  * (2:38 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** tacky



He snorted at his friends response, shooting one back of his own before putting his phone down.

The glass of the windows held his interest, and he watched people come and go, cars honking, and found with mild peace that the cafe’s french music helped to block out the white noise of the world.   


He looked down at the cake, it’s innocuous posture, before sending a picture of it to his friends.

  * (2:41 p.m.) **alexham:** poisoned, y/n?


  * (2:42 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** why u ask


  * (2:42 p.m.) **alexham:** back at the cafe jeffershit works at. turns out he bakes the shit here too


  * (2:43 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** def poisoned


  * (2:43 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** also gross



Alexander snickered, putting his phone down before grabbing his laptop out. The cafe was closing in roughly twenty minutes, but a lot could get done in that time span with the right motivation.

The woman came by a moment later, handing him his drink and offering one last warm smile before she returned to her spot on the counter. He stared at her a moment, transfixed by her black apron, and his next speech struck him.

He didn’t  _ need _ to work, but he liked working, and writing, it was what he did and what he was made of, so he gleefully got to work. The chocolate cake sat next to him, unattended, his mind too wrapped up in his dealings to notice when a shadow stepped over him some time later.

“Of course you’d still own a fuckin’ uni sweater.” Drawled Jefferson in his accent, lazy and slow and sure, and Alexander  _ did not _ jump in his seat - he did though, and it was embarrassing and stupid and he glared up at the tall man, appearing more imposing and impossibly larger from where Alexander sat.

He adjusted himself, eyes squinting before the full brunt of Jefferson’s appearance hit him. The man had a white apron this time, and his white button up was rolled up at his elbows, and his person was covered with flour, sugar, and were those sprinkles?

“Oh my god you do bake the shit here,” he said, shocked, and a laugh slipped from him, unbidden, and Jefferson rolled his eyes before thumbing up at the clock.

“Yeah, laugh it up, but it’s still three.” Jefferson said.

Alexander looked around, noticed it was, and he was the last person left. He then turned to his right, saw the cake sitting almost demurely by him, and he grabbed at his fork, poked the cake. All the while Jefferson watched him, eyes bored and mouth a neutral line.

“Oh.” Alexander said, and he looked back up at the man. “Can I finish this first?”

“Think you have to  _ start _ something to finish it.” Jefferson retorted, and when he made to take the untouched plate Alexander tightened his hold, and they began a mini, rather precarious game of tug of war over Alexander’s laptop.

“It’s mine and I paid for it!” Alexander hissed.

“I get that, but I’d like to go home!” Jefferson shot back.

“That doesn’t mean you can just - just throw it away!”

Jefferson sighed, pinching his brow and Alexander tried not to stare at the fact his doing so left white powder across his nose and forehead. It was stark contrast to his dark skin, and it took precious effort to tear his eyes back to Jefferson’s gaze.

“I’m not throwing it away, you idiot, I’m putting it in a  _ to-go _ .” Jefferson enunciated, and Alexander frowned.

“But I wanna eat it now.” Alexander said, holding the plate of cake close and Jefferson looked decidedly unimpressed. 

“You can, when it’s in a  _ to-go _ and out of my way.”

“Nuh-uh, I want the full dining experience,” Alexander said rather childlike, “plate and fork and all.”

Jefferson looked lost for words. “You can  _ have that _ without my damn plates I need to clean!”

“Not the same. I’m here to appreciate the food. And your service is proving lacking,  _ barista _ .” Alexander spat the last bit, unsure why he was egging Jefferson so.

“By all means, please, take as much time as ya’ want, I live to serve ya’.” Jefferson spat, accent thick in his anger and turning on his heel to the kitchen, Alexander watching him go with a glare.

“Thanks!” Alexander shouted at the retreating man, entirely sarcastic.

He shoved a bite of the cake into his mouth, his irritation only worsening because the woman from earlier, where ever she’d gone, wasn’t lying. The cake was delicious, regrettably so, and he finished it record time.

Gathering his stuff, he left the plate on the counter. Leaning over it and peaking into the kitchen, he heard more than saw the activity of Jefferson back there, doing god knows what.

“Your cake sucked!” He yelled, knowing Jefferson would hear it, and it was a bold faced lie but no one could ever accuse Alexander of claiming he wasn’t petty.

He heard a curse, followed by some clangs of what Alexander assumed were cooking sheets, before Jefferson poked his head and upper body out of the kitchen. He shot Alexander a death glare, giving him the double birdie, and his body was caked with a variety of different batters and doughs.

“Get bent, thanks.” Jefferson said, tone like ice and Alexander wasn’t bothered, flipping him off with one hand and snapping another picture of Jefferson with the other. He sent it off to his friends, laughing at the flurry of curses Jefferson shot at his back as he made his way back home.

-

By the time six rolled around Alexander had already called for an Lyft and was waiting outside the mall. John was there, and said that Lafayette and Mulligan were on there way.

“I can’t believe Jefferson is a barista.” Alexander said in lee way of greeting his friend. “And he  _ bakes _ things too.”

John scrunched up his nose, as if the thought was as weird to him as it was to Alexander. “I can’t believe you went back there knowing that douche works there.”

Alexander shrugged. “Admittedly, they have really tasty coffee, and it’s close by.”

John conceded with a small hum, pulling out his phone and scrolling through some website or the other. It was quiet for a moment, before Alexander broke the silence again.

“Did you see him covered in flour? Can you believe that shit?” Alexander said, looking towards his friend and John tilted his head, remembering the picture of the taller man caked in various baked goods Alexander had sent him earlier.

“I mean you said he bakes stuff.” John said, his attention being pulled away when his phone made a small notification.

“Yeah, but it has to be like… stupid stuff. Poisoned.”

“You ate there today, didn’t you?” John said without looking up.

“Yes, I escaped with the skin of my teeth.” Alexander said, crossing his arms.

“Nice.” John said, and it was apparent his friend really wasn’t listening to him.

Alexander would have huffed at him, maybe peered over his friends shoulder and see what had his attention so, when Lafayette and Mulligan arrived. They made a clamour as they rushed over to greet him, or Lafayette did, really, with Mulligan trailing behind with a small snort at his friends antics.

“It’s been simply too long since we’ve all been together!” Lafayette said, leaning heavily on Alexander despite the height difference, leaving Alexander struggling to support the large frenchman.   


“We did see each other like, three weeks ago.” John piped up.

“Yes but that was to  _ drink _ ,” Lafayette said, as if that made a difference, and he wagged a finger at John, “this is to have merriments without such a blasted drink.”

John scoffed, and Mulligan rolled his eyes.

“To be fair, you called us to drink.”

Lafayette refused to dignify that with an answer.

“Laf, you’re crushing me.” Alexander managed to get out, squeezing out from under Lafayette’s heft and the other man looked down as if he just noticed what he was resting his elbows on.

“Ah, sorry,  _ mon petite lion _ , you are well?” Lafayette asked.

“Not yet, I’m still waiting to see if Jefferson laced the cake with rat poison.” 

At this, Lafayette looked confused, before Alexander gestured to his phone and the frenchman finally saw the snap he sent hours ago. A strange sort of cloud settled on his friends brow.

“Hmph, baking now, is he?”

Alexander wondered why the tone had him feeling slightly bereft.

“Baking for the forces of douchery, obviously.” John said, and Lafayette nodded to that.

“As he would. I’d stay away from that cafe, it’s too french tacky.”

“The cake wasn't bad, at least.” Alexander said, and he hadn’t a clue why he said that.

His friends shot him an look.

“What?”

“ _ Peut-être que c'était empoisonné. _ ” Lafayette muttered, and Alexander chuckled.

“Whatever, enough talk on Jefferson, like seriously,” John said, glaring at them, “It’s time for a  _ movie _ .”

-

Hours flew by, and the movie wasn’t the worst, but it certainly hadn’t been the best. He’d only really laughed when John or Lafayette made a particularly witty comment, or when Mulligan pointed out an inconsistency.

He arrived home late, tossing his shoes off and passing out the moment he laid down on the pillow. Feeling drained for reasons he couldn’t place, but solace was found in sleep, and so he dreamt nonsensical things.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alex dont be a dick bro


	3. You Look Like Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woops this is like the longest chapter of the entire thing and i could have split it in two but didnt but hey its a good chapter i promise

_ “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” _

_ And he was alone, then. _

“You’re…  _ Nadine _ , right?”  Alexander asked, looking at the tiny woman across the counter.  

She turned to look up at him, a bright grin on her face and she nodded, free hand that wasn’t wiping down the wooden surface tapping against the metallic name tag pinned to her chest.  “That’d be me,  _ oui _ .”  She said, voice thick with a french accent.  

He had already ordered, and it looked like Jefferson was off today, and so he took the chance to speak with the Virginian’s elusive boss.  Sipping on his latte, he swirled it about, letting the melting whip cream mix with the drink in curls of white and mocha.

“Would you like to order something else?”  She asked, turning to face him fully and resting her elbows on the now pristine counter.  

He blinked, chewed on his cheek.

“How long has Jefferson worked with you?”  He asked, curious, and he hadn’t meant to ask that - really.  But the guilt from his - admittedly - bratty behaviour yesterday stung him.

She quirked a brow up at him, crossing her arms as she leaned back.  “ _ Jefferson _ , huh?”  She emphasized Jefferson’s name, specifically the usage of his  _ last _ name, and his cheeks flushed a little.

“We’re not on the best terms,” he explained, “but - uh, yeah it’s been a while since we last met.  Colour me curious?” One shoulder shrugged, and Nadine hummed, one finger tapping against her cheek.

“When was last you saw him?”  She asked, curious, and he looked off as he recalled.

“Back in Uni.”  He answered with.

She hummed, turning to tuck her rag into her apron and focused on listing what she had in the dessert case.  “I hired him four years ago.”

“Oh.”  He thought back to when he last saw Jefferson in University, he was barely nineteen, really, and was in advanced courses.  Alexander grinned as he recalled the ire of his peers, all years above him because unlike him, they had to work their way through the prerequisite classes.

And he especially remembered the pique his presence drew from Jefferson alone.  The man was already older by his classmates by two years, and thus Alexander’s meer existence must have been some salt in his wound.  Not that it mattered to Alexander - he had courses to ace and people to prove wrong, and the Virginian was just another face in a crowded sea that said he couldn’t.

But one early spring semester the man had vanished, and any questions on his whereabouts - not that Alexander was asking - were quickly dismissed.  Some transfer or the other. He never bothered to look into it, and now he almost regretted not. His mind liked puzzles and mysteries and things that didn’t make any sense, really, and this was a something that confounded him.

Jefferson was a genius, loathe Alexander admit it, and though the man had the world’s most oblique views, he was certain to go  _ somewhere _ , yet he hadn’t.  Four years ago, that placed it three years after the man’s disappearance from Uni.  

Questions wracked his mind, and he pondered each one.  Alexander tucked his hand under his chin, one finger stroking beneath his lip, before he was broken from his reverie.

“Is that all?”  Nadine asked, tilting her head and shooting him a curious look.

Alexander blinked, “oh - uh, yeah.  Thank you for your time.” He said, and took his leave from the cafe.

-

“You're here.”  The  _ again _ wasn't included, but Alexander knew it from the tone of Jefferson's voice.  Threaded through a southern twang and Alexander shrugged.

“Ignoring  _ you _ , you guys make pretty damn good coffee.”  Alexander said. Which was true - ignoring the more questionable reasons for his being here.  Nadine only made him more curious.

“I'm the only one whose made your stupid latte.”  Jefferson quipped.

Alexander waved a finger about, blinking up at the taller man haughtily, “not true, your boss has.”

Jefferson just snorted in response.  “I'm guessing it's the latte extra shot thing?”

Alexander nodded, “whipped cream too, don't forget that.”

“Yeah yeah, four ninety five.”  Jefferson said, hand held out in expectation and Alexander handed him a ten.

“Change can go into the tip jar.”  Alexander said, feeling that maybe that'd make him feel better about the last times he'd been here.  Clear some of that guilt up.

Jefferson stared at the ten strangely, and Alexander watched, confused, his fingers clench too tightly around the bill.

He felt a little snuffed by that.

“Okay, then change  _ doesn't _ go into the tip jar.”  Alexander grumbled, gesturing to take it back and replace it with a five, to which a mildly violent tug of war began over the fragile bill.

“Sorry, but yer’ pity ain't my cup of tea.”  Jefferson hissed out, and Alexander glared up at him, releasing the money to cross his arms.

“I'm  _ tipping _ you for making my  _ drink _ , asshat.”  Alexander said, “don't flatter yourself, I'd never stoop so low as to pity your smug ass.  It’s just the proper, civil thing to do. You know - tip your barista and that.” Alexander flipped his hand about with his words, waving it off as something that wasn’t such a big deal.

Even though Alexander tipping Thomas Jefferson of all people was, most certainly, a big deal.

Jefferson looked less peculiar at that, but his movements were stiff as he dumped the change in his jar.

Alexander felt like he won, then, and shot Jefferson a beaming grin that was full of haughty joy.

-

  * (11:13 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** u wanna hang out?
  * (11:14 a.m.) **alexham:** im already out, unless you wanna meet up?
  * (11:14 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** u of all people are already out at 11 am



Alexander snorted, seated comfortably with his laptop out.  He was at Le Café Crème, and snapped a shot of him sipping at his drink with a thumbs up to John.

  * (11:15 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** ur hanging out -there- at 11 am i cant believe it
  * (11:15 a.m.) **alexham:** its got good coffee, you should try it over that crap at starbutts
  * (11:16 a.m.) **thebestjohn:** uuuhm no thnks ill keep to my safe crap coffee
  * (11:17 a.m.) **alexham:** hah your loss



-

“Oh god, please tell me you're not making this habitual.”  Jefferson said, and Alexander laughed openly at Jefferson's contempt.

“Sorry, your cafes right around the corner and I'm lazy.”

“So I have to pay for that?”  Jefferson said with squinted eyes, but he wasn't so hostile.

“Well,” Alexander said, cheeky grin in place, “ _ I _ actually have to pay for that.”

Jefferson shot him a nasty glare, “and how exactly do you just have the funds to throw around like that?” 

Alexander shrugged, smile smug.  “I've got a  _ great _ job, it's what having actual brains gets you.”

Jefferson grunted in distaste.

Alexander didn't bother with the Virginan's annoyance.  “Large latte with-”

“Extra shot and whipped cream.  Got it.”

-

“Ah, a regular you’re becoming, I see.”  Nadine said, staring up at Alexander with a grin on her face, and Alexander gave her his most charming smile.

With an extravagant bow, he gestured to Nadine.  “I can’t resist the coffee nor the charms of someone as lovely such as you.”  He said, voice dripping honey sweet and he laid it on extra thick just to gather a groan from the corner Jefferson was sweeping.

“Oh, you’re a charmer.”  Nadine giggled out, waving a hand at him and he laughed, leaning over the counter and enjoying the quiet seethment of Jefferson.  “Would you like your usual today?”

“Absolutely, madam.”  Alexander said with a beaming smile, and Nadine tapped away at the register.

“You could learn a thing about customer service from this young man, Thomas.”  Nadine said absently, and Jefferson huffed. Alexander still found it weird hearing someone talk to Jefferson so personally.

Jefferson leaned over into their space, Alexander leaning back with squinted eyes as Jefferson prodded with the brooms hilt his way.  “Nadine, ma’am, with all due respect, but that idea is terrible.” The Virginian drawled.

Nadine looked up at Jefferson with a quirked brow.  “Thomas, the state you were in when I -”

“Have I ever said you’re the most charming and grandest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on?  The sweetest summer bell, you’d make.” Jefferson immediately cut through her words, and Alexander soured at that.  Whatever Nadine was saying Alexander was most interested in. 

“Only when you want me to shut up, my dear boy  And I’d be caught dead in that filthy south of yours.”  Nadine said, tapping a pen at Jefferson’s space, and Alexander felt somewhat awkward standing between them.

Nadine turned to him, as if sensing his discomfort, and her grin was all warmth, “four ninety-five, thank you.”  

He handed her a ten, a pointed look to the tip jar and Jefferson, just to watch the Virginian puff up and storm away to finish his job of sweeping and Nadine laughed at the mans retreating back.  “That will be right up, thank you.” She said, holding Alexander’s eye, but her thanks felt off. Like she wasn’t thanking him for the order or the tip.

“No problem.”  He said, albeit awkward, and made short work of leaving when his drink was finished.

-

“You brought me a drink from there.”  John deadpanned, staring at him from where he crashed the night earlier on Alexander’s couch.  He needed help with some paperwork after his job and they ended up spending the night watching Marvel movies than working.

“Well you have work in thirty, thought some caffeine would cheer you up.”  Alexander said, waving the plastic cup around until John snatched it with a suspicious glare at the innocuous drink.

He sipped at it, and then blinked.

“Not bad.”

“Told you.”  Alexander said with a smirk, seating himself by John.

“Still though, I don’t get why you keep going there?”

Alexander shrugged.  “It’s honestly just convenient to get my coffee there.  It tastes good and the pastries aren’t half bad.”

John snorted, staring off to the side.

“What?”  Alexander asked.

“Thought you couldn't stand Jefferson.”

Alexander laughed, shooting John an amused look.  “I mean, he’s obnoxious - but, aren’t you a little bit curious what happened to him?”

“And you are?”  John shot back, and Alexander didn’t have an answer for that.

He chose to play the next movie, bidding John a hand wave as goodbye when the man left for work.

-

“The usual?”  Jefferson asked, and by now he no longer looked noticeably perturbed by the shorter man’s presence.

Alexander, for his part, didn’t want to analyze why that was important to him.  But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about what happened to Jefferson.  The man was, admittedly, just as smart as him. The sole reason he was willing to call the Virginian his rival.  

And then he transferred away to another University, never to be heard from again.  Then Alexander ran into him, years later, and he wasn’t a big wig, he was just.

Working at a cafe.

Looking  _ normal _ .

Not to mention the earlier conversation he witnessed between Jefferson and Nadine...

Alexander was curious.

“You know it, and I’ll take a cake, too.”

Jefferson rang him up, and as Alexander wrote on his laptop he watched, oddly entranced by the sight of the taller man working.  Laughing and joking with customers, handling cleaning and all that jazz, and if his eyes met with Jefferson’s, Alexander was quick to look back to his screen.

-

  * (6:15 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** hey the gangs hanging tonight, u joining?
  * (6:17 p.m.) **alexham:** nah, got work to finish up
  * (6:17 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** ur loss



-

Waking at the crack of dawn was something he wasn’t entirely for, but was doing so as of late, so when the sun gave its first tentative hello to the day and woke him, he didn’t so much mind it.  Rolling onto his back, he stared up at his ceiling.

His phone let him know it was entirely too early, a jolly old seven AM, and he stretched out, languid and slow.  A satisfying crack of his bones and he sagged back against the bed, sighing. He’d need some coffee, and food, and he shrugged into his nearest pair of jeans.  He slept in his Uni sweater, and decided some deo would make it not so bad.

Brushing his teeth and bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way to the cafe he now spent the majority of his free mornings.

It’d been a while since the movies with his friends, and they were all busy with this and that.  John actually had a job that required five days a week, and Lafayette was happy to dote and help Mulligan with his upcoming fashion show.  Being a motivational speaker had its perks. And seeing as he did most of his work through his blog, even better. Motivational blogger, then?  He shrugged.

He entered the cafe, bell chiming, and this time it was Jefferson sweeping.  Nadine was off today, he was certain.

Jefferson acknowledged him with a nod of his head, days used to Alexander’s presence as he kept about his work.  Alexander set his bag down on the table closest to the right corner, his usual spot, it was quickly becoming, before making his way to the counter.

Jefferson took his leisure time setting the broom away, before coming behind to stand at the register, looking down his glasses at Alexander.  The shorter man was still getting used to the lazy air he held about him with this look. Well - lazy wasn’t the right term, he was just… not posh.  No air of superiority.

“Same thing?”  Jefferson drawled, and Alexander shook his head minutely, stirring away his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m scared you’d fuck anything else up.”  Alexander said, and Jefferson snorted.

“Please, I could make half these drinks with my eyes closed.”  Jefferson said, gesturing to the large menu hanging above on the wall, many of the drinks long fancy french names that Alexander felt were only there for posterity.

That was also something Alexander was getting used to.  Jefferson being good at his job, something like pride under the lazy sway of his words, the duplicity of the Jefferson from Uni to the Jefferson he was slowly coming to know now.

Alexander made a small hum, perusing the list with a careful eye, “somehow I doubt that.”

Jefferson rested his arms on the counter, leaning over and down until he was eye level with Alexander.  “Hamilton, I  _ work _ here.  And as the sole worker hired by Nadine, I can say with confidence I am the best here.”  

“Who knows, maybe Nadine just pities you, makes all the drinks behind your back in an elaborate magic scheme to keep you thinking you’re  _ good _ at something that’s not being a major dick.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes, leaning away from the counter.

“Tell you what, I’ll make ya’ something off menu because I’m bored and lattes are the easiest shit to make, and I’d rather eat nails then make you another one.”  Jefferson said, his accent no longer bothersome to Alexander’s ears, and Alexander cocked him a look.

“Secret ingredient gonna be arsenic?”

Jefferson laughed, and what a strange thing that was.  “Oh, you know it.” Jefferson gave him a haughty wink, and thank everything he turned around to get to work making this mystery drink to notice the small flush that touched Alexander’s cheeks at the motion.

The man turned back from the counter, resting against it and watching people come and go.  It was tuesday, and he assumed that these days were their slowest, as no one had slugged in for coffee yet.  The other days he came in they’d be decently busy, and Alexander would get sparse conversation with Nadine and Jefferson.

And the fact he started having casual conversation with Jefferson no longer made his head spin.

Alexander turned to look over his shoulder, at Jefferson who was pouring ingredients into a small blender before the shrill metallic sound of it whirling away swallowed the room up.  Jefferson didn’t notice his gaze, focused on his work, and Alexander found he had a hard time looking elsewhere.

It was still odd, that.  Jefferson was a worker, had a job, and from an earlier conversation, he was able to infer he also had a cat.  Jefferson had a cat and glasses and didn’t look half bad with his hair lazily tossed back into a ponytail, no matter the vitriolic commentary Lafayette had on the subject.  Alexander found it hard to look away from the curls of Jefferson’s hair as the man moved about, and he blinked a few times when the taller man turned to face him officially, a bemused sort of expression on his face.

“Lost in thought?”  Jefferson asked, wiping his free hand on the towel always firmly tucked in his apron, and his other holding a blended drink Alexander’s way.

Alexander shook his head, dazed a moment, before he rekindled himself.  “Sometimes it’s just weird watching you  _ work _ .”  He admitted, and he hadn’t meant to, but Jefferson huffed a laugh.

“Tell me about it.”  Jefferson said, and Alexander looked up at him, cocked eyebrow as he held the drink Jefferson had made close.

“It’s  _ weird _ .”  Alexander restated, and then, after sipping his frozen drink, “and it’s made  _ weirder _ because this is good.  Stop being good at something that’s not douche baggery.”

Jefferson let out a laugh, then, and his eyes turned into something melancholic as he looked to the side.  Alexander couldn’t tell what he was looking at, but he wanted some insight. He opened his mouth, but he wasn’t sure what he could say - what he  _ would _ say, even, before Jefferson blinked and he was lazy content, again.

“I still finesse in being a douchebag, but my past time includes supplying the world coffee, like a decent samaritan.”  Jefferson drawled with amusement, and Alexander levelled him a look, pulling out his phone while he did so.

“Can you say that to the camera, I need solid evidence you know what the word ‘samaritan’ is.”  Alexander said, and Jefferson narrowed his eyes, but his look wasn’t annoyed - entertained, which made Alexander’s stomach flip a little.

“Sending that to your friends?”  Jefferson said, and Alexander hummed.

“Who else to languish with me over the insanity that is Thomas Jefferson working in a cafe?”  Said Alexander.

Jefferson looked to the side a moment, a chuckle bubbling in his chest before he shrugged.  “Fair point, alright.”

“Really?”  Alexander asked, shocked that Jefferson agreed.

“Yeah, why not, who am I to deny the world that is my working majesty?”  Jefferson said, one shoulder shrugging, and Alexander pressed his thumb over recording.

“So, what are you again?”

Jefferson stared at him, a dull expression of boredom, before he drawled, “a samaritan of coffee.”

Alexander laughed, and Jefferson leaned off the counter.

“Lafayette is gonna  _ freak _ when he sees this, he can’t stand your ponytail, you know.”

At the mention of Lafayette’s name, Jefferson froze, and Alexander remembered a little too late that they had a supposed falling out.

Jefferson was silent, and Alexander was going to apologize or say something, he wasn’t sure, before the Virginian spoke in a voice that Alexander couldn’t deny sounded strained.  “You mind not sending that to him?”

The fact Jefferson bothered to ask him at all had Alexander’s tongue tied.

“Oh, uh, yeah.”  Alexander mumbled, thumbs fiddling over the screen.  A sudden tightness in his chest made his mind stutter, and he swallowed down the feeling.

“Thanks.”

Alexander wanted to ask what happened between the two, because he was curious and Jefferson  _ thanked _ him, but he stayed quiet.  “No problem.” He settled with saying, and he finished his drink in silence.

His eyes strayed and watched Jefferson work, and as he traced the tense curve of the man's broad shoulders he pondered on what he knew now.  He wanted to ask, terribly so, and almost did before his phone alerted him to a client's message and he slipped back into work mode. Outside life draining to the background.

-

  * (3:43 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** pft jeffershit the samaritan
  * (3:43 p.m.) **alexham:** haha tell me about it
  * (3:43 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** more like tell -me- about it, why r u even still going there srsly
  * (3:44 p.m.) **frenchfuck:** id avoid that man, mon petite lion, i can bake you way better a cake



Alexander had no doubt Lafayette could, but…  He didn’t want to stop going to the cafe. It was almost entertaining, talking to Jefferson.

  * (3:44 p.m.) **alexham:** you could out bake anyone laf, thats tough to beat
  * (3:44 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** tru but hes riiiiight, u should just pick another cafe
  * (3:45 p.m.) **alexham:** ill look around



He wouldn’t.

-

It’d been a handful of months since he started making almost daily trips to the cafe, sans sundays when they were closed.

He found it was the most peaceful he’d been in some time, those mornings.  Odd as it was. And in that time he and Jefferson had formed an almost - amicable air.  The terse tang of old anger fanned out, replaced with uncertain bounds and the tenuous string of something similar to friendship that Alexander loathed to give it a name, in fear it’d disappear if he did.

So he didn’t, choosing instead to enjoy what sparse talk they had between each other and spend his time writing in the quiet environment.

Not to mention Nadine wasn’t bad company by far, either.  The older woman was snarky as hell, and she seemed to enjoy his presence, saying how nice it was to have so many attractive, charming young men in her life.  He almost choked on his drink when she gestured to Jefferson as being part of the equation, and it made him shoot the Virginian a cock eyed stare as he tried to form the words proper in his mind.

Not that he was unaware the man was good looking, he had eyes, but - it was weird knowing others knew it.  It was plain weird knowing others  _ knew _ Jefferson.

The man was always an abstraction in his life - a two-dee rival.  Not a person that had depth and a life and friends and all those other things people had.

“It is nice he has a friend.  Now he’ll be almost tolerable.”  Nadine said one afternoon when Jefferson wasn’t working, and Alexander didn’t register the full meaning of those words, not really.

He had hummed absently in response, and she returned to her work.

It was only later he realized he was referred to as Jefferson’s friend, and how little it bothered him.

-

  * (5:36 p.m.) **literalhercules:** Hey Alex, I have a show tomorrow night, you coming to see?  I saved seats.
  * (5:38 p.m) **alexham:** oh sure, laf and john joining?
  * (5:38 p.m.) **literalhercules:** As if Laf would miss a show.  Johns coming because I need his help to finalize some stitching.
  * (5:39 p.m.) **alexham:** cool, shoot me the address and ill be there
  * (5:39 p.m.) **literalhercules:** Awesome, thanks man.  :)



-

 

It was ten in the morning, a decent day, and Alexander found himself walking the similar path to Le Café Crème.

The saturday morning was crisp, cool, and Alexander wondered the snow would start up this week.  He held his jacket closer, hoping against because he  _ hated _ snow, but was too used to the powdery substance by this point to make a move against it.

He entered, tapping away at his phone, listening to the familiar chime of the door as he set his stuff down on the table he claimed as his own.  No matter that no one ever sat there, anyway.

Pocketing his phone, he went up to the counter, stopping short of saying his order when he took in Jefferson’s appearance and the fussing Nadine was doing over it.

The man looked like a mess, to put it bluntly.

Hair poking out of the usual firm ponytail, bags dark, and Alexander noted the red tinge around his nose and eyes.  His clothes were rumpled, and he looked to be out of it. Was Jefferson  _ sick _ ?

“You will call me if you can’t finish?”  She asked, plaintive worry, and Jefferson waved her off. 

“I’ll be fine, go see your son,” Jefferson said, low enough that Alexander had to strain to hear it, and Nadine crossed her arms and shot Alexander a sharp look.

“You,” she said, jabbing a finger at him, “ensure this foolish boy does not die on shift.  I’d stay but…”

“For the love of christ go to your son’s birthday, Nadine, or I will personally see to my own demise while I’m here.  Enjoy that lawsuit.” Jefferson drawled, Nadine glaring up at him but her face softened the longer she stared up at Jefferson.  Alexander was still reeling at her demand that  _ he _ make sure Jefferson didn’t keel over.

A small slip of paper was shoved at his chest, and Alexander grabbed at it, confused.  “My number, if he  _ does _ die.  My son’s wife spent weeks planning this event and I can’t miss it.”  She fiddled with the purse on her shoulder, and Alexander just noticed how well dressed she was.  All fine clothes and earrings. “Let me know this fool ends up home tonight, thank you.” 

And then she was gone in a rush, and Alexander wasn’t even sure he said anything, holding up the paper and looking back to Jefferson who wobbled where he stood.

“You look like shit.”  Alexander said into the awkward silence, pocketing the number.

Jefferson shot him a glare, but he also was slow about it, which made Alexander snicker.  “Thanks, hello to you too.” The man said, and his voice had a prominent rasp that made Alexander think  _ coughing _ .

Alexander shirked back from the counter, glad no customers were in line, the only other patrons seated at tables and on phones or laptops.  “Are you sure it’s safe for you to handle food?” 

“I wash my hands, dickhead.”  Jefferson spat, but Alexander took no heat from it.

Alexander leaned over the counter, peering back into the doors that obscured the kitchen from view.  Jefferson watched him, confused, and Alexander motioned to the back, “shouldn’t you be, you know, at home sleeping?”

“Unless your blind, deaf,  _ and _ dumb - Nadine’s occupied today.”  Jefferson answered, and Alexander grimaced.

“Damn.  Guess I’m gonna have to deal with contaminated drinks today.”

Jefferson snorted, and the sound of joy was ruined by the man immediately rushing to grab napkins before he made a mess of himself.  He stumbled, obviously unbalanced due to whatever illness he had, and managed to knock over a few containers. Alexander watched with mild horror, grossed out but unable to look away from the trainwreck that was sick Jefferson.

After a flurry of hands and towels Jefferson held a napkin to his nose, glaring at Alexander who was busying himself snickering at Jefferson’s misery.  “Laugh it up, douchebag.” But his words and tone were garbled by a stuffy sinus.

“Oh, I will.  I’ll take the usual.”

He paid and Jefferson got to work.  Alexander watched him flitter about the small confines, usual graceful movements stiff and lacking finesse.  He felt bad for the Virginian, which was a weird thing to associate with his former rival, weirder that -  _ former _ rival.  Then again, they weren’t competing anymore - no professors to break up a shouting debate, and no grades to one up.

“Shouldn’t you hire other workers?”  Alexander said, breaking the silence.

Jefferson didn’t bother turning to him as he answered, focused on making the drink, “Nadine isn’t exactly rolling in cash.”

Alexander hummed.  “Yeah, but what do you do if both of you guys get sick?”

“Then one of us sucks it up, of course.”  Jefferson answered, and his tone suggested he found Alexander stupid for asking.

The shorter man glared at Jefferson’s back, annoyed for various reasons, and any piteous feelings he had for the douche was diminished.

Jefferson turned to him, stiff and disjointed, and handed him the drink which Alexander graciously took.  “Did you cough into it?” He asked, purely to jab at the other, and Jefferson attempted to dignify him an answer, however, as life saw fit, he erupted into a coughing fit.

Jefferson thankfully hacked into a bundle of napkins clenched in his hand, nearly doubled over from the force of it.  He stood, wavered a little, and Alexander chastised himself for almost leaning over to help steady the other.

“You totally coughed into it.”  He said instead of helping, and Jefferson flipped him off, a wary glance cast to the other customers, who were graciously too busy with themselves to notice.

“Go fuck yourself.”  Jefferson hissed, and his voice was a lot raspier, making Alexander wince.  It had to hurt to speak now.

“Is that anyway to speak to the person Nadine’s put as your primary medical provider?”  Alexander snipped up at Jefferson.

Jefferson held his head, sighing, and Alexander snickered.  “I’ll be fine, go fuck off elsewhere. Nadine’s overreacting.”

“Enjoy dying.”  Alexander said, and decided he didn’t have to do what Nadine asked - Jefferson was a grown ass man.  He felt bad, regrettably, watching Jefferson trudge about, the man swaying just slightly, with jilted movements and a stuffy nose.  But if he stayed here to do his work, well, he wouldn’t be able to focus. What with Jefferson being so depressing.

“Yeah, get out of here.”

-

Five rolled around and Alexander was ready for Mulligan’s show, semi-excited to see what his friend cooked up, less so to be surrounded by people who might actually want to  _ talk _ about fashion trends and what have you.  Alexander shuddered, and loathed to think of such conversation.  He preferred to talk of meaningful things. Not that his friends job  _ wasn’t _ meaningful it just… wasn’t his cup of tea.

He gave himself a once over in the mirror, and figured he would fit in well enough with the crowd.  Although Mulligan didn’t say it was formal, it was a fashion show - and Alexander would hate to stand out.  As it was, he looked alright - snug black jeans and a light blue button up.

Tying his hair back, he shrugged into a thick jacket, knowing the night air would be more than uncomfortable.

He slung his laptop bag over his shoulder, aware that he might need it in case there’s a lull or the show got too draining, work always helped to pep him up.  He stepped outside, already shivering with the frosty air, and pulled out his phone. Opening the Lyft app, he secured his destination but hovered over the enter button.

His mind flashed, and for a moment he thought of Jefferson at work, sick and fumbling even the most menial tasks.  Thought of the man’s slumped shoulders and distant eyes. Of Nadine’s request to see the man home. Had he -

He wasn’t worried.

Shaking his head, he hit enter, and waited patiently for the ride to arrive, and not at all weighing the pros and cons of just swinging by to check.  It  _ was _ five, hours past closing, and thus there was no logical reason to check on the man.  No need at all, really, and he was probably fine. He had himself worked up for no reason.

Still - he bit his lip, and sighed roughly.  Only just to adhere to Nadine’s request - he respected the woman.  When the car came to pick him up, he mentioned the new stop.

Though he hated having to call another lyft for what would practically be  _ no reason _ he wouldn’t be able to focus on the show until he settled the issue.

“That cafe’s gonna be closed by the time I get you there.”  The driver said, and Alexander shrugged.

-

Alexander didn’t know what he was expecting upon arrival, but ones thing for sure, he didn’t expect  _ that _ .

He got out of the car, barely bidding the driver farewell before he entered the darkened cafe, it’s door still open.  And once he flicked the lights on, he was caught between bemusement and a rush of  _ oh _ .

Jefferson was slumped over one of the tables, mop bucket out and mop itself laying uselessly on the floor.  One of the Virginian’s hands hung down from his position, knuckles almost brushing the ground, and his head was pillowed on the other.  The place was half closed - some food items put away, half the chairs flipped, and from the way the man was breathing - Alexander assumed he’d passed out a bit ago.

He inched forward, brow furrowed in worry when he could hear the hoarse breathing from Jefferson.  Alexander had no clue it was bad enough the man would  _ pass out _ during work.  Glad he stopped by now, he poked at Jefferson’s shoulder.

“Hey, uh, you alright?”  He asked, and receiving no response, he shoved harder.

And completely pushed Jefferson out of his lax sit, the man tumbling to the ground.  Alexander let out a yelp, jumping to grab at one flailing arm and managing to - well, not  _ stop _ his descent but certainly lessening the blow.

Jefferson immediately shot up, rocking slightly and looking around with bloodshot, wide eyes.  

“What the fucking fuck?”  Jefferson yelled out, confusion lacing his features until he landed on Alexander leaning over a chair, still holding onto his extended arm.  “What are you…?” He asked, and Alexander looked anywhere but Jefferson.

“Your stupid cafe was on the way to Mulligan’s show, and Nadine asked me to, so I figured you’d fuck up closing while sick and swung by.”  Alexander said, but Jefferson just stared at him.

“Oh.”  Jefferson breathed, and it alluded to the man’s state of mind he didn’t look the least bit upset with Alexander’s words.  “Okay.” Jefferson said, and proceeded to lay back on the ground, arm uncomfortably pulled in one direction because Alexander had yet to let go of it, and he watched the Virginian just not give a shit.

Okay then.

“You can’t sleep here, you know.”  Alexander said, letting Jefferson’s arm flop onto the metal chair.  It made a loud sound, and he winced a little.

“ _ You _ can’t… can’t sleep here.”  Jefferson mumbled, eyes closed and voice hoarse.

Alexander rolled his eyes, “yeah, dipshit, and you can’t either.”

Jefferson didn’t respond.

“Jefferson.”  Still no response.  Alexander leaned over the chair, resting his chest on it until his face was closer to the Virginian.  “ _ Jefferson _ .”  He said, far louder, and smothered a laugh when Jefferson cracked one eye open, bloodshot and seething.

“What.”  He asked, tone flat and full of death promises to Alexander.

“What’s left to do?”  Alexander asked, gesturing to the cafe, and Jefferson lazily looked about.

“Why?”

“Because you’re dying on the ground, and I don’t think Nadine will appreciate seeing your corpse tomorrow.”

“We’re closed tomorrow.”

Alexander scrunched his nose, “then you’re gonna be smelly when she finds your body.”

Jefferson hummed in response, eyes slipping closed again, and Alexander risked bopping Jefferson’s forehead.  He shocked at the heat the man was practically radiating, even more offkey when Jefferson merely furrowed his brow at the light hit.

“I want to sleep, go.”  Jefferson said, turning to lie on his side but was halted when Alexander grabbed at his arm.  “What?” He asked, tone tired and angry, but the heat of it was exhausted.

“You can’t sleep here.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No.”

Alexander pinched his brow, this was getting nowhere fast.  With a sigh he stood from the chair, staring at the metal decor before he huffed.  He flipped it over and set it on the table, copying what he’d witnessed Jefferson do multiple times before.

He pulled out his phone, shooting a glare to the now dozing man on the floor.

  * (5:27 p.m.) **alexham:** hey im gonna be late, something came up
  * (5:31 p.m.) **literalhercules:** How late?
  * (5:31 p.m.) **alexham:** shouldnt be too long, maybe an hour?  sorry man
  * (5:32 p.m.) **literalhercules:** Thats fine, see you then.



It took a bit, but he managed to get most things away.  The mop was annoying, because why was the drainer for it in the way back?  He felt stupid about tip toeing in the kitchen, as if he was trespassing, because he wasn’t, but he stayed light on his feet nonetheless.

He looked around as he made his way back to the front, feeling odd wherever he looked.

This was where Jefferson spent his mornings, six days a week, four years running.  His fingers skimmed a countertop, and he wondered how often he had to work sick.

Shaking his head, he closed the kitchen door and made sure everything looked - decent _ ish _ .  He didn’t work here, and had little clue what duties were supposed to be done anyhow.  It would have to do, and he returned to Jefferson, who was now curled on his side, snoring.

He lidded his eyes, not knowing how he should exactly take in the sight of his old rival looking so…  _ pitiful _ .  He shifted his feet, feeling awkward and like he shouldn’t be staring at Jefferson, so he shifted his gaze to the Eiffel tower painting.

With a few moments of breath, he toed at Jefferson’s back, stirring the man.

“Do you have a car?”

“No.”

Alexander huffed, “where do you live?”

“Why you need to know?”  Jefferson slurred out, still curled on his side and eyes firmly shut.

“Because I can’t leave you here.”

“Leave me here.”

Alexander sighed, a loud heave of breath before he grabbed at Jefferson’s arm and tried to lug him up.  The man was  _ heavy _ and  _ big _ , and Alexander wasn’t exactly the most fit individual.  “Get.  _ Up _ .”  He huffed out, to no avail.

Jefferson groaned in annoyance, glaring through crooked glasses and Alexander held his stare with contempt.

“Get up or I’m stealing all the coffee here.”  Alexander threatened, but Jefferson didn’t seem to buy it.

“Do it then. No balls.”  Jefferson responded haughtily, and Alexander tightened his grip and attempted another tug upwards.

“I  _ will _ , then.”  Alexander bit out, and with one more heave Jefferson stumbled willingly to his feet, looking pained and angered but at least he was standing.

“What do you  _ want _ ?”  Jefferson asked, more of whined, and Alexander glared at him, neck craning because Jefferson was standing too close and wobbling.  Alexander held one hand out, just shy of holding the taller man’s arm to stable him.

“To not read in the obituary come monday that they found your sorry corpse.  Now come on, where do you live?” Alexander pointed to his phone, and Jefferson held his face in both hands, huffing an heated breath.  He held it for a moment, before one eye peaked between fingers at the device in Alexander’s hands.

“Fine, fine,  _ fine _ ,” Jefferson muttered, before clumsy hands stole Alexander’s phone and held it far above his head.  

“Hey!”  Alexander snapped out, balancing on the tips of his toes and reaching for his phone, but Jefferson’s freakishly long arms held it easily out of reach.

“I’m putting my damn address in, hold the fuck on.”  Jefferson grumbled, and seconds later Alexander’s phone was thrust back at him.  “Happy?” 

“Far from it.”  Alexander said, shooting the taller man a glare before he gestured around the cafe.  “Done enough?”

Jefferson turned about, glancing all over the place with eyes that suggested he was barely taking in his surroundings.  “What?”

“Is there anything else that needs to be done?  I only did the shit I see you do, so.”

“Oh, oh yeah, yeah, it’s fine.”  Jefferson said, one hand rubbing his eyes, the other waving off Alexander’s concern.  His tone was tired, soft, and bereft of the previous annoyance.

“Cool, let’s lock up.”

More over Alexander did, with Jefferson trailing behind him and slowly telling him how to lock the doors.  Minutes later they were finally outside, cafe locked up and secure.

Alexander checked his phone, grimacing.  It was a twenty minute drive. He shot a surreptitious glance at the taller man next to him, and wondered if Jefferson walked that every day.  Or if he had a bike, or he took the bus, or whatever.

He chewed his lower lip, his hands fidgeting about on his phone.

“The rides almost here.”

“Cool.”  Jefferson said from where he was leaning against the cool brick wall of the cafe’s exterior.

“I’ll let Nadine know you got home safe.”  Alexander said, shooting a text to the woman and receiving a smiley face in turn.  It made him smile almost.

“Do you have everything?”  He asked, turning to look up at the Virginian.

Jefferson’s face scrunched with thought, and he shrugged.  “Gonna be honest, no fucking clue anymore.”

“...  Okay,” Alexander said, and he looked forward, away from the sorry sight Jefferson made.

The silver car pulled up, and Alexander flagged it down. Smiling and greeting the driver as he all but shoved Jefferson in the back.  Ensuring they were both buckled in, he kept his eyes trained out the car window, happy that the driver chose to turn up the music and keep quiet.

“ _ -nks _ .”  Blurred through the thrum of music, and Alexander almost missed it.

“What?”  He asked, turning to look at Jefferson awkwardly slumped in the cramped quarters of the backseat.

“Thanks.”  Jefferson said, only a little bit louder, and his eyes were resolutely facing the window.

Oh.  Alexander blinked, and his heart skipped a moment.  He rubbed at his chest, feeling awkward, and stared off into the lull of passing buildings and cars.

“No problem.”

-

The apartments weren’t like what - well.  Alexander wasn’t sure what he was expecting.  They were nice, along a small street that the Lyft driver had a hard time navigating.  Copy paste buildings crisp and red bricked and painfully classic, and Jefferson came with a slight waver to stand next to Alexander.

“Which one?”  Alexander asked, and Jefferson stared at them with squinted eyes.

“That one.”  He said, pointing to the one near the corner that lead to the main street, and they walked there in almost companionable silence.

They trudged up the small stairs that lead to the front door, Jefferson leaning heavily on the wooden structure while he dug for his keys.  Alexander watched him, shooting glances around the neighborhood and yeah - it was nice. The area looked cute, and from what he could see with lit windows, decently populated.

The door swung open, and Jefferson almost tripped over his feet getting inside.  Alexander stood at the doorway, unsure of what he should do.

“You coming?”  Jefferson asked, turning to look over his shoulder, and Alexander followed after a second of shocked silence.

He looked all over the apartment as he stepped inside, Jefferson shutting the door behind him and collapsing face first onto the couch that was seated in the rather homely living room.  His feet hung comical off the side, and Alexander noticed the couch was too small for someone of Jefferson’s length with a small huff of laughter.

The place was nice, well kept - and far more lived in than Alexander’s place ever was.  There were knick knacks, all well thought out and adding to the overall feel of the place.  There was a distinct southern vibe, and he could only quirk a brow at the oddly familiar paintings of fields and old victorian era towns.  Before anymore could be taken in, he jolted when he felt something small and soft rub against his leg.

Looking down, he saw a tiny cat.  It looked up at him, wide eyes multicoloured - green and blue, he noted - and let out a small meow.

“You have a cat?”  Alexander asked, and though he had an idea, he didn’t really think.

Jefferson mumbled something into the couch, one hand up and waving in the air.  It somehow called the cat, and Alexander watched as it’s tail shot straight up and it ran right over to its owner.  It settled on Jefferson’s back, and Alexander hardly believed what he was watching when one small paw began batting at the Virginian’s turned down face.

A few seconds and Jefferson let out a yelp, turning over onto his back and the cat resettled on his chest.  Jefferson lifted one hand and began petting down the cat’s spine, and Alexander was almost transfixed on the sight.

He didn’t know what to say, standing awkward in Jefferson’s doorway and watching the ill man pet his cat.  

“Do you,” Alexander paused, scratched at his head, “do you have any medicine?”

Jefferson turned a side eye towards him, hand still petting through the cat’s white fur.  He pointed with his free hand to the hallway. “Second room to the right, bathroom mirror.  I have tylenol.” 

Alexander nodded, light footed as he walked through  _ Jefferson’s _ home.  He almost shuddered at the oddity of it, but found the bathroom easily enough.  Collecting the medicine he entered the kitchen, looking at the quaint space and stared over the counter back into the living room where Jefferson still was.

“Where are your cups?”

“First cabinet by the fridge.”

“‘Kay.”  A moment later and Alexander was handing Jefferson a glass of water and pills.

The man struggled up, soft, coo like calls to his cat as he sat and Alexander wanted to look away.  He didn’t think he’d ever see Jefferson babytalk something. It was weird.

“Thanks.”  Jefferson rasped after he swallowed the pills, setting the glass down on the coffee table and collapsing back.  His cat meowed again, probably frustrated, and settled firmly on the tall man’s thighs.

“Right then, if you don’t need anything else-”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah.  I’ll uh, uhm.”  Alexander was rarely lost for words, and he pointed to his phone.  “I’ll leave you my number, in case of anything.”

Jefferson nodded, eyes already closed, and he dug into his pocket blindly, handing Alexander his phone.  He took it, silently putting his contact info in and not thinking too hard on the whom he was doing this for.  He set the phone down by the water, giving a once over to Jefferson’s form, and found he couldn’t look away when Jefferson blinked up at him.

They stayed like that a moment, a silent conversation that Alexander felt he was painfully short handed on, before Jefferson broke the silence.

“Why’d ya’ help me?”  He drawled out, and Alexander looked away, shrugging.

“Figured you might need some.”  Then with a shirked shoulder, he added, “and Nadine asked me to.”

Jefferson hummed, but he didn’t seem wholly satisfied with the answer.  He turned to look at the couch, fingers absently petting his cat, and Alexander went to stand by the door.

“I’ll be going now,” he said, and Jefferson gave him a thumbs up.  Then after a moment's contemplation, “Night.”

“Night.”  Came Jefferson’s quiet reply, and Alexander couldn’t leave fast enough.

-

“You look off, dude.”  John said, peering over at Alexander from where they sat in the audience.  Mulligan’s new line wasn’t out yet, and the crowd was busy fawning over the current runway models.

Alexander looked at John, and shrugged.  “Weird thing happened today.” He said, and John cocked a brow, silently asking for more to go off.  Alexander rubbed at his neck, “so you know how Jefferson works at that cafe I’ve been going to?”

“You’re  _ still  _ going there?”  John asked, incredulous, and Alexander avoided his eyes.  Chose to stare at a man in an immaculate suit as he strut down the walk way.

“ _ Good coffee. _ ”

“...  Right.”

“Anyway, I went there earlier today, and Jefferson was there.  And he was sick.” Alexander said, fingers tapping away on his thigh and he yearned to do something other than talk.  But it felt good to talk to John, and he was, admittedly, weirded out by the whole thing.

He turned to look John in the eye.  “Do you know he has a cat?”

“Wait - how do you know he has a  _ cat _ , and what does that have to do with -”  John stopped, and shot Alexander a look of pure shock.  “Oh my god, you’ve  _ been  _ to his _ house _ .”

Alexander winced, and decidedly looked forward again.  “Perchance.” He said, and John shoved an elbow at him, leaning forward and trying to catch Alexander’s eye.

“Why were you at his house?”  John asked.

“Well, I -” Alexander broke off, feeling embarrassed.  “So when I was there this morning -”

“Naturally.”  John quipped.

Alexander silenced him with a glare, “Nadine asked me to make sure he got back safe -”

“Who’s Nadine?”  John asked, and Alexander sighed irritably.

“His boss, may I finish?”  To John’s silence he continued, “so on the way here, I stopped by because, I don’t know, Nadine wanted me to and she’s nice and it was  _ Jefferson _ working  _ sick _ , like - did you ever think that’d be a thing?”

“Not really, no,” John said, pulling a face.

“Exactly - so I, I stopped by to see if he wasn’t dead by closing and he was passed out on a table.”  Alexander said in a rush, and John stifled a laugh.

“Did you get a picture?”

Alexander thought, and then regretted not.  “Didn’t think to.” He looked to his lap, huffed a little, before refocusing on the stage.  “But yeah, I ordered us a Lyft, gave him some medicine, left my number in case he died or whatever and left.  But he has a  _ cat _ .”

John stared at him, an odd look in his eye.  Alexander felt scrutinized, and shifted where he sat.

“What?”  He snapped, and John curiously looked forward again.  His friends face was neutral, his eyes set in the distance and Alexander felt he was missing something.

“That is weird.”  Was all John commented, and little else was said that evening.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nadine ships it probably


	4. Only Idiots Don't Get Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS 13 TILL MIDNIGHT I STILL UPDATED ON A SUNDAY HAJANGLEMA updating from my phone is fun ha h a :')

_ When no one returned it truly struck him. _

_ “I am alone.” _

Alexander woke to his phone buzzing.  His head panged, and he was brutally reminded of last night.  He pressed a palm to his eyes, breathing deeply and glad the sun wasn’t quite out yet.

He stayed out late with his friends, celebrating Mulligan’s newest success and of course, drinking.  They’d crashed at said designers apartment that night, and Alexander grappled for his phone from where he had passed out on the couch.  Lafayette was snoring some feet from him on the ground, a blanket haphazardly tossed over him.

Successfully finding his phone tangled in his covers, he blearily blinked at the messages sent to him.  None were business, which he was thankful of - his head was too tender for that right now - but instead were sent from an unknown.

  * (5:58 a.m.) **unknownnumber:** Thanks for yesterday, your next lattes on me.
  * (5:58 a.m.) **unknownnumber:** Also, your closing job was -shit-.
  * (5:59 a.m.) **unknownnumber:** And you didn’t lock my door, thanks for that.



Alexander snorted, recognizing Jefferson and entering the man’s info into the phone.

  * (6:01 a.m.) **alexham:** no problem
  * (6:01 a.m.) **alexham:** wtf are you doing up this early anyways, arent you sick and its sunday?
  * (6:03 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Because I have to fix whatever disaster you left at the cafe and catch up on baking I missed yesterday.  
  * (6:03 a.m.) **jeffershit:** I’m feeling better anyway, and used to it, unlike your lazy ass.
  * (6:03 a.m.) **alexham:** uh youre assuming i -dont- wake early every day?
  * (6:04 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Fair.  You have the bags of someone who never sleeps.
  * (6:04 a.m.) **alexham:** aw you noticed my bags
  * (6:05 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Yeah, they compliment your eyes - really brings out the bullshit in them.



Alexander let out a laugh, shocking himself for a moment, before he replied.

  * (6:06 a.m.) **alexham:** wow im so touched, nice to know someone finally noticed
  * (6:06 a.m.) **jeffershit:** As if I could go without, I've had to deal with your ass for months.
  * (6:07 a.m.) **alexham:** you should feel honored i grace your cafe by coming at all, its all for the coffee
  * (6:07 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Pft, we all know it’s because you like me.



Alexander knew he meant it as a joke, but he couldn’t help but stare at the small screen.  Something lodged in his throat, and he found it hard to stay still, suddenly restless where he lay.

  * (6:09 a.m.) **alexham:** you wish, i go there for Nadine
  * (6:09 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Didn’t know you were into fifty year old cougars.
  * (6:09 a.m.) **alexham:** more like theyre into me ;)



There was a lull, and Alexander wondered if his joke was in poor taste.

  * (6:13 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Sorry, I think seeing you send a winky face actually caused a physical revulsion in me.  I might be sick again.



Alexander rolled his eyes.  

  * (6:13 a.m.) **alexham:** yeah have fun baking and dying, im passing back out



Alexander was closing his eyes, as Jefferson hadn’t responded, when his phone buzzed.  Curious, he turned it on and noticed said man sent him a picture. He grinned at the image of Jefferson flipping him off, obviously not wholly better but dressed for work with a  _ hair net _ , and piles of dough sitting on a tray in frame.

He didn’t bother typing a reply, sending a thumbs up before sleep took him again.

-

Alexander drifted in and out of consciousness, the world bits and pieces.  He was sure he heard John, and the distinct sound of someone tripping and loud cursing in french.

Lights flicked on and off, and Alexander had rolled into the couch, cushion pressed tight to his face to secure the darkness he was currently finding solace in.  By the time it was quiet, Alexander deemed it safe to wake up.

The curtains were - graciously - shut, letting nary a stream of light in.  He sat up slowly, head pounding but found a glass of water by him. He guzzled it greedily, veins praising everything that something other than alcohol was entering their system.  Setting the emptied cup down, he let his eyes adjust and took in the surroundings.

Lafayette was still tangled in blankets and pillows on the ground, limbs starfished out and mouth hanging open in a large snore.  Judging by the otherwise silence of the home, he assumed Mulligan and John were out. Stretching his arms out he grabbed his phone, blinking when the first thing he saw was Jefferson flipping him off.

Pulling out, he then remembered their too early morning conversation, and stared at their messages for longer than what could probably be deemed healthy.  It was hard to exit out the convo, and he wanted to slap himself for the urge to go back and reread what had been sent.

Getting up, he took care of his bathroom needs and brushed the vile taste of alcohol from his mouth.  Cold water splashed onto his face, and he spared a moment to glance at his reflection. One hand reached up, fingers prodding at the darkened bags beneath his eyes, feeling out the shape of them.

He then realized what he was doing, and with a prominent flush he scrubbed at his face.

Lafayette chose that moment to stumble in, a stream of nonsensical french being muttered and Alexander pulled a face when the man none too elegantly pissed right next to him.

“Gross.”  He said with a wrinkled nose, but Lafayette clearly had yet to fully wake, and paid him no mind.  The frenchman turned to face him with slowly blinking eyes, saying something else under his breath and Alexander chose to walk off.

Picking up his discarded shirt he shrugged into it, scratching a hand through his messy hair and looking for a hairband.

Mulligan and John entered the home then, bags of food and a cardboard container holding four coffees in their hands.

“Oh, you guys up?”  John said, bright eyed somehow and seeming to be free of any hangover.  Mulligan at least had the decency to squint.

“We got breakfast.”  Mulligan said, shaking the bagged food and Alexander grinned at them.

“Have I ever told you guys you’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen?”  He cooed, fluttering his lashes and John laughed, Mulligan smirking before placing the things down on the table.

“Laf, breakfast!”  Mulligan risked yelling out, and they turned their heads as their friend stomped into the living room, looking worse for wear and holding his head gingerly.

“ _ Oh mon dieu pourquoi _ , so early?”  Lafayette said, his voice hoarse.

“It’s twelve.”  Mulligan deadpanned, and John and Alexander settled at the table.  Lafayette sat by them with a grumble, but his foul mood diminished with food and soon they all were chowing down.

Alexander sipped at his coffee, and pulled a face.

John noticed, and quirked a brow.  “Starbutts not good enough for your majesty?”  He asked around his straw.

“I’ve had better.”  Alexander said with a laugh, taking his phone out and taking a picture of the coffee in his hand.  With one hand he typed up a message and sent it off. He figured Jefferson would like to mock the corporate brand.

“Huh.”  John said, and Alexander looked up from his phone.

“What?”  Alexander asked, and Mulligan and Lafayette chose to cue into their conversation.

John shot a look to Mulligan and Lafayette, before looking back to Alexander’s phone.  “Are you texting Jefferson?” He asked, and Alexander sputtered over his drink.

“Why would you ask that?”

“You took a picture of your coffee.”  John equated, as if that was a proper answer, and Alexander felt his cheeks burn.

“Oh,  _ mon petite lion _ , why would you associate with that  _ cul _ ?”  Lafayette asked, but his question was lost as his attention was still pulled by his breakfast sandwich.  Mulligan for his part just looked between his friends, a thought on his brow but otherwise silent.

Alexander stared at them, and he felt like he was being judged, almost, and it put him on the defensive.

“What’s so bad about it?”  He snapped out, irate, and John shrugged, but his gaze was locked on the table in front of him.

“Nothing, just, you know, you guys were pretty against each other back at University.”  John said.

Alexander’s brow furrowed, and he glared at his coffee.  “Well yeah, back then he was a rich douche. He’s not exactly swimming in cash, and without it - he’s, you know.  Almost nice to talk to?” Alexander said, fumbling for the right words.

Lafayette sighed through his nose, obviously done with the topic point, and dragged Mulligan into a conversation about the newest fashion trends that felt somewhat forced.

“Alright, then.”  John said, one palm up in submission, and that was that.

But Alexander was still on edge, and it didn’t help when his phone buzzed, notifying him Jefferson’s response, and John sent him what he assumed was supposed to be a furtive glance.

  * (12:25 p.m.) **jeffershit:** I’m offended on behalf of all coffee.



Alexander didn’t respond.

“So…”  Mulligan began, and Alexander glanced up at him, as did everyone else.  “I have an announcement to make,” He said, and his tone was barely contained excitement.  “I got us some seats at a real good restaurant, with awesome wine and alcohol. The food’s good too.”

“You sound a little too excited for just a restaurant reservation.”  Alexander said, his irritation draining in the face of his friend’s happiness.

Lafayette made a noise of agreement, linking his fingers and resting his chin in the stitching of them.

“Well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but this Wednesday I’ll be taking you guys out, and you’ll know what’s got me so excited.”  Mulligan said with a grin that practically beamed.

“Sounds like a plan, Herc.”  John said with a smile, and they continued on talking of other things.

-

“Well, don’t you look peachy.”  Jefferson said as Alexander stepped up to the counter.

Alexander glared up at him, rubbing at his head and mumbling choice words beneath his breath.  He had a headache for a solid two days now, which he at first assumed was a hangover - but then the damned thing kept at it, and with his offset equilibrium, he had only one solid answer.  He was sick.

He blamed Jefferson.

“You got me sick.”  He said instead of answering, and Jefferson gave an exaggerated show of leaning away from Alexander, fanning the air away as if the shorter man’s very presence would make him ill again.

“Can you leave and die elsewhere, then?”  Jefferson asked.

Alexander shot a glare at Jefferson as he leaned his weight against the counter, off to the side so anyone in line could walk around him to order.  “No, you promised me a free drink.” Alexander said, words muffled by his hands that were rubbing at his face.

Jefferson snorted, shooting Alexander a side eye before his expression turned painfully pleasant as two customers walked up.

Alexander watched him handle the couple, southern charm that earned him a fair tip and he kept his eyes on Jefferson as the man made the order, keeping conversation up with the clients as he did.  Though Jefferson noticed his stare, he said nothing, his eyes meeting Alexander’s every so often letting him know that the Virginian was aware he was watching. Alexander prided himself on not looking away, face cushioned in his arms and body practically bent over to rest himself on the cool countertop.

“I’m gonna have to wash that now.”  Jefferson asked when the customers walked off, his arms crossed and he sent a pointed look to the counter space Alexander was leaning on.

“Too bad, free drink, now.”  Alexander said, one hand making a grabby motion and Jefferson rolled his eyes.

“Fine, same thing?”  Jefferson aqueised, and Alexander shook his head.  It made him dizzy, and he instantly regretted it.

“No, make something new.”  Alexander was vaguely aware he could come across as whiny, but he was sick, and tired, and was steadily growing more upset the more his friends bugged him about talking to Jefferson.  The only logical solution was to go and bother Jefferson, of course.

Jefferson quirked a brow, but shrugged.  “Alright, you good with caramel?”

Alexander waved a hand about.  “I’m partial.”

Jefferson shot him a grin, and Alexander found himself lost in it’s gleam.

His eyes lazily traced Jefferson as the tall man moved about the space.  He noticed the low song that Jefferson was humming, and he wanted to close his eyes and focus more on the soft thrum of it.  Instead he struggled to keep his mind alert - he had used most his energy storming his way to the cafe.

The conversation he had with his friends yesterday irked him.  And although he knew they only meant his best interest with it, his skin itched nonetheless.  

It was true him and Jefferson had a rather… vitriolic relationship in University.  They disagreed on everything - because Jefferson’s political views were absolute  _ shit _ \- and the amount of arguments and debates that professors had to break up were practically innumerable, but that was then.  Years ago, and Jefferson was different now.

It was too soon to place the how and the why, but in the months since he’s remet the Virginian, it’s been pleasant.  The first few times were jilted, he’d admit, but since then one could call their conversations amiable. 

This new Jefferson made Alexander painfully curious, questions licking up his throat but never making it past his lips.  He wanted to know more, wanted to know why Jefferson would stare off at times, distant and melancholic, lucid and tangible yet out of reach.  Wanted to know more about Nadine’s past with him.

Alexander was snapped out of his reverie by a cup tapping down by his face.  He blinked, pulling back until the blurred form took shape and he let his closest hand grab at the cup.

“Walla.”  Jefferson said, one hand doing a dramatic wave around the cup and Alexander chuckled.

He stood up, his free hand holding most his weight and he took a sip of the mocha coloured drink.

A burst of chocolate and caramel hit Alexander’s tongue, followed with a sharp hint of salt that complimented the sweetness.  He closed his eyes, a sigh of pleasure slipping forth, and he took another drink. The cold was good for his throat, and the refreshing flavours helped clear his head a bit.

He blinked his eyes open, slow and ready to thank Jefferson when he stopped short.  The Virginian had an odd look to him, mouth slightly agape and was that a blush dusting the man’s cheeks?  

Alexander cleared his throat, wincing a moment at the pain, and Jefferson blinked.

“Thanks.”  Alexander said and Jefferson appeared almost -  _ flustered _ , with the way he avoided Alexander’s eyes and stumbled over his response.

“Y-yeah, no problem.”  Jefferson muttered, one hand scratching at the back of his neck and Alexander felt his own cheeks heating.  He shuffled his feet, sharing the awkward tension radiating from Jefferson.

“It’s really good.”  Alexander said, softly, gaze averted as he drank more.

“It’s one of Nadine’s personal favourites, thought ya’d like it.”  Jefferson said, and Alexander nodded dumbly along.

“Good call.”  Alexander replied.

“Yeah.”  Jefferson said, before they both promptly decided the conversation was best ended then.

-

Tuesday night found Alexander not much better, curled onto his side and shivering.  Fevers absolutely sucked, and he would eat grass if it would make breathing through his nose a thing again.  He never realized how for granted he took that simple motion, but now being stuck with only his mouth, he missed it terribly.

He pulled out his phone, glaring at the screen until it focused and he checked his messages.  One from a client asking about a reschedule, and he frowned when he noted it was sent hours ago.  He hadn’t noticed.

He sent a deft reply, and checked the others.  A few from his friends about the upcoming dinner that Mulligan had planned for them tomorrow, but with how Alexander felt right now, he wouldn’t be doing much anything come then.

  * (9:38 p.m.) **alexham:** dont think i can make it tomorrow
  * (9:41 p.m.) **thebestjohn:**??? u busy?  this is rlly important to herc
  * (9:42 p.m.) **alexham:** got sick



There was a noticeable pause, but from the three dots bubbling at the bottom, Alexander surmised John was choosing his next words carefully.  That made his stomach clench nervously, and he glared at the dots.

  * (9:45 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** kay



Alexander stared disbelieving at the short message.

  * ~~~~(9:45 p.m.) **alexham:** just kay?
  * (9:46 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** if ur sick, ur sick
  * (9:46 p.m.) **alexham:** well i am
  * (9:46 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** cool for u, rest up



Alexander blinked.

  * (9:47 p.m.) **alexham:** are you upset with me?
  * (9:47 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** no
  * (9:47 p.m.) **alexham:** youre acting like it
  * (9:47 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** im not upset with -u-
  * (9:48 p.m.) **alexham:** so you are angry



Another long pause.

  * (9:53 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** jeffershit got u sick, didnt he
  * (9:53 p.m.) **alexham:** he didnt get me sick, people just get sick john
  * (9:54 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** people get sick right after hanging with a sick dude
  * (9:54 p.m.) **alexham:** we didnt ‘hang out’ i just got him home
  * (9:54 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** and got his medicine and left ur number???
  * (9:55 p.m.) **alexham:** because he was -sick- and his boss asked me to, what was i supposed to do?
  * (9:57 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** u hate him
  * (9:57 p.m.) **alexham:** i -hated- him, but hes different now i dont fucking know
  * (9:58 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** look, he hurt laf real bad and just disappeared from university and now hes a -barista-, and no one from his family knew about it??? Im just looking out for u man
  * (9:59 p.m.) **alexham:** i appreciate it, john, but i can handle myself
  * (10:01 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** w/e, try not to die



Alexander exited out of the convo, a bad taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the illness wracking his body.

-

  * (6:12 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Still dying?  You didn’t come in today.



Alexander looked at the message, swallowing roughly and downing the water he managed to collect himself a bit ago.  Jefferson had noticed his absence, and that made Alexander feel better after the conversation he had with John yesterday, if only a little.

  * (6:14 p.m.) **alexham:** aw didnt know you missed me
  * (6:14 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Like I can miss your sick ass.  Plus, Nadine wanted to know.
  * (6:14 p.m.) **alexham:** tell nadine shes awesome, and yeah im dying still
  * (6:14 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Nadine says thanks, as for me - tough luck, I’m fit as a fiddle.  :)
  * (6:15 p.m.) **alexham:** wow good for you



Alexander coughed into his pillow, scrunching his nose up before he rolled over, phone safely held above him.  He felt disgusting - his body overheated but too cold at the same time, and everytime he stood the world swayed violently.  

As it was, he expended the last of his energy walking to the cafe yesterday to get that free drink offered.  Big mistake that, as the moment he got back his body rather crudely reminded him he was ill.

Staying stationary on the couch was the safest option.

  * (6:17 p.m.) **alexham:** how did you -work- like this
  * (6:17 p.m.) **jeffershit:** That bad?
  * (6:17 p.m.) **alexham:** im dying and standing kills me
  * (6:17 p.m.) **jeffershit:** You take any medicine?
  * (6:18 p.m.) **alexham:** like hell im standing



There was a pause, and Alexander stared fuzzy eyed at the screen, breathing in hot puffs of air.

  * (6:21 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Do you want me to come over?
  * (6:21 p.m.) **jeffershit:** If you want help, that is.
  * (6:21 p.m.) **jeffershit:** And are okay with it.
  * (6:21 p.m.) **jeffershit:** To say thanks for the other day.



Alexander blinked at his phone, and the meaning of the words hit him.  The other man was offering to come over and help him out.  _ Jefferson _ wanted to help him out, as repayment for saturday.

And he was being flustered over it.

It was almost cute.

Alexander swallowed, wincing with the pain that followed and sent a blank stare to his doorway.  He situated himself on the couch, so he’d be closer to the kitchen and the bathroom if he found it in himself to brave the whole standing business again.

  * (6:24 p.m.) **jeffershit:** It’s cool if you’re not okay with it.



Alexander thought back to John and Lafayette, and their obvious distaste of Jefferson.  Of who he was. But he was different now - the old Jefferson wouldn’t offer to help him out.  And Alexander never would have helped out the older Jefferson.

But this Jefferson had an elusive air about him, distant eyes and something Alexander couldn’t place.  Content? No - that wasn’t quite right.  _ Acceptance _ .  As if he suffered, and came to accept the damage.

It perturbed him.

  * (6:25 p.m.) **alexham:** if youre fine with my sick germs
  * (6:26 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Can’t catch the same disease twice.



Alexander sent Jefferson his address.  

And promptly realized what he’d done.

  * (6:27 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Be there in an hour.



-

Alexander found himself dozing off, eyes locked on the door but by the time Jefferson finally arrived, he had passed out.

He shocked to the sound of knocking, and his phone buzzing on the table.

Picking it up he saw it was a call from Jefferson.  The clock read fifteen till eight, and he realized that the Virginian must have arrived.  He scrambled to answer the call, head dizzy from sitting up and he managed to croak out, “yes?”

“I’m here.”  Jefferson said, and it was weird hearing his accent through a phones speaker.  Alexander found he didn’t quite mind it.

He fumbled upwards, almost collapsing but catching himself on the rim of the couch.  With a deep breath he steadied himself and made the grueling trek to the door. Only a handful of steps, really, but as he was now it felt like hell.

After what felt like an hour he managed to get to the door, and with only a moments fumble, got the door swung open.

“Jesus, you look like shit.”  Jefferson said, eyes wide and in one hand he had a plastic bag that Alexander thought if his nose worked - would probably smell delicious.  He leaned forward, maybe to get a whiff of the contents, and managed to collapse forward.

“ _ Woah _ -” Jefferson said, catching Alexander by the arms.

Alexander looked up, addled mind unsure how he ended up against Jefferson.  But the man was sturdy, comfortable - and  _ strong _ , and Alexander blinked slowly up at Jefferson.

“I feel like shit.”  Was all he said, and Jefferson shot him an odd look.  The taller man’s face was flushed, maybe, or it was the lighting, but Alexander found it hard to look away.  He jumped a little when Jefferson gave him a soft push, not releasing his arms but guiding him to turn around.

“Let’s just - just get you inside.”  Jefferson walked him to the couch, but all Alexander could focus on was the low timbre of his voice, the southern drawl of it, and the strong grip of his hands.

“Okay.”  Alexander said, head spinning and he let Jefferson set him on the couch.  He looked up at the Virginian, taking him in bits and pieces. Strong jawline, and his hair wasn’t in the pony tail anymore, and Alexander had the oddest urge to touch it.  His glasses were slightly crooked.

“Where do you keep your medicine?”  Jefferson asked, and from his tone it sounded like it wasn’t the first time he asked.

“Oh, uh,” Alexander blinked, looking to his lap and eyes scrunched in thought.  Medicine was in - in the kitchen? “Kitchen? Yeah, kitchen. Counter by the… the microwave.  Above the microwave.” He said, and a moment passed before a cup and pills were in front of him.

Jefferson waited for him to take it before giving him a sympathetic look.  “You’ll feel better tomorrow, third day was the worst for me.”

Alexander set the glass down and glared through his loose bangs at Jefferson.  “You got me… got me sick, you  _ asshole _ .”  And he whined the last bit, doubling over and hugging his blanket around himself.

“To be fair,  _ you _ chose to help me out last time.  Not my fault.”

“Bullshit, you were sad to look at and Nadine would’ve killed me.”  Alexander said, shivering and curling his legs closer to himself.

“I was sad to look at?”  Jefferson asked, and his tone was incredulous.

Alexander shook his head, despite the dizzy spell it gave him.

“I wasn’t?”

“Doesn’t matter.”  Alexander said, and flopped down onto the couch, hissing at the pain that shot through him.  Moving sucked when one was sick, and he was not enjoying the whole shebang.

Jefferson muttered something, and Alexander peeked at him from under his blanket.  They held gaze for a moment, before Jefferson scratched at his hair and looked off to the plastic bag he set on the counter.

“I got you soup and some shit for breakfast.”  Jefferson mumbled, shrugging. “It’s not much.”

Alexander waved a hand around, cutting through Jefferson’s doubt.  “S’fine, is awesome.” He said, tone slow and lazy, and it made him think of Jefferson’s, and that thought made him smile a little.  “You’re awesome.” He slurred out, eyes drifting shut, and they shouldn’t be doing that just yet.

He shot an accusatory glare at the taller man.  “Did you - did you give me sleeping pills?”

Jefferson gave him a sheepish grin.  “It helps.” But was most distracting was the slight flush on his cheeks.

“I take it back, you’re… you’re  _ terrible. _ ”  Alexander said, brow furrowed, and it was harder to stay awake.

“Yeah, yeah.”  Jefferson said, but he sounded content.  “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I am in bed.”

“You’re on a couch.”

And then Alexander passed out.

-

Alexander woke, bleary and head significantly clearer, and he was in his bed.

He looked around, confused, and noticed a glass of water and pills by him.  He glugged the water, throat dry, and passed a cursory glance to the pills before swallowing them.  His phone notifications was blinking, and he turned to look at the device.

  * (5:36 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Your foods in the fridge, and I left some pills and water by you.
  * (5:36 a.m.) **jeffershit:** No sleeping pills this time, scouts honour.



He glared at the messages.

  * (5:58 a.m.) **alexham:** you -drugged- me you dick
  * (6:02 a.m.) **jeffershit:** And brought you breakfast and carried you to bed.  I think some thanks is in order.
  * (6:02 a.m.) **alexham:** wait you carried me
  * (6:02 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Like a princess.  ;)



Alexander knew then what Jefferson meant about his own winky face sent.  He shuddered a little, glaring at the symbols and as long as he focused on that - he wouldn’t have to deal with the skip of his heart.  Or the sensory imagery of what being held by Jefferson would feel like.

The man was built like a brick house, Alexander wasn’t blind.

He buried his face in his hands, groaning at his thoughts.

  * (6:04 a.m.) **alexham:** youre a -dick-
  * (6:05 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Anytime.



-

  * (3:23 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Feeling any better today?
  * (3:25 p.m.) **alexham:** less like killing you thats for sure
  * (3:25 p.m.) **jeffershit:** I’ll take that as signs of improvement.



-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alex is a fOOL
> 
> and johns had enough of his shit


	5. Goodnight, Alexander

_It never got easier, for him._

_The loneliness, that is._

Two days passed and Alexander finally felt good enough to show his face around.  His phone had been suspect with how quiet it is, aside from sparse texts from Jefferson checking up on him.  That thought burned his cheeks, and he rubbed his face vigorously with cold water.

Glaring at his reflection in the mirror, he sighed.  

He was a grown ass man - he knew what the skips of his heart meant.  Not that he wanted to analyze it, or particularly give any thought towards it - if anything, he’d be perfectly fine burying them in a shallow grave and maybe planting daisies on top.  Because it was still _Jefferson_.  Thomas Jefferson who was painfully nice.

Thomas Jefferson who helped him out, had _carried_ him to his bed, albeit he couldn’t remember it.  Got him some soup among other things that hadn’t tasted half bad.

Worse even that the food was in plasticware.  Jefferson had made them at his own house and brought it over.  He’d have to bring him his tupperware back soon.

A text from his phone drew him from his reverie, looking down and picking it up, he typed his password in.

  * (12:37 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** hey man u alive



Alexander swallowed, as John nor anyone else from the group had texted him since Tuesday.

  * (12:28 p.m.) **alexham:** no thanks to your ass
  * (12:38 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** as if id risk getting sick, love u man but i like being healthy
  * (12:38 p.m.) **alexham:** oh ill keep that in mind next time youre sick
  * (12:39 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** pls do
  * (12:39 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** anyways, im coming over if ur ass isnt infected anymore



It was friday.

  * (12:40 p.m.) **alexham:** you dont have work today?
  * (12:41 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** taking a personal day my bro
  * (12:41 p.m.) **alexham:** alright then, see you soon



-

John arrived an hour later, a bag slung over his shoulder and Alexander cocked a brow at that.  

Alexander was seated at his table, laptop out and halfway through his latest speech, Apron of Mediocrity, he’d called it.  He greeted his friend with a nod of his head, sandwich shoved in his mouth as he kept his fingers gliding across the surface.

“So,” John began, and Alexander kept typing, inclining his head to let him know he was listening.  “Herc’s leaving to Britain.”

Alexander paused typing.

“What?”  Alexander asked around his sandwich, as he didn’t quite catch what John said.

“He’s moving to Britain.  Lafayette’s going with him.  He got a big deal at his last show, so he’s, ya know, heading off to get _bigger_.”  John said with a shrug, and his eyes were trained on the table.  “Make the Mulligan line the real deal.”

Alexander put down his sandwich, turning to bodily face John.  “Wait… when did he?”

“Told us a few days ago.”  John said, but the hard edge of his voice was new, and had Alexander on the defense.

“What?”  He asked, again, and John’s eyes flashed to his, hurt and angry, before glancing back to the old wood of his coffee table.  “John -”

“If you’d _been_ there the other day, you would have been there to hear the news from Herc himself.”  John said, accusing tone in place, and Alexander returned the anger.

“I was _sick_ , John, I couldn’t go _anywhere_.”  Alexander said, voice low.

“Which you wouldn’t have been if you weren’t hanging out with that dick so often!”  John practically yelled, one hand thrown up with his words and Alexander glared.

“He’s not that _bad_ anymore!”  Alexander seethed, standing from his sitting position and pacing into the kitchen.  “Honestly, you guys sound like toddlers - holding onto to grudges from _years_ ago.  People _change_ , John.”

“Oh, yeah?”  John said, a challenging tone, and stood to match with Alexander.  “If he’s so different why doesn’t he own up and apologize to Laf?”

“Oh, come _on_ , we don’t know what happened between them.  It could have been just as shitty from both ends!”  Alexander yelled, exasperated, and he glared into his sink.  “I don’t see Lafayette making an effort to talk to him.” Alexander said, harsh and low.

“Yeah, but I don’t hear about Jeffershit making one either.”  John spat back, and Alexander hadn’t anything to say to that.

“John,” Alexander began, but his throat closed over any words he tried to form.  “I’m - sorry about missing the dinner.” He finally managed.

“I don’t get why you have to hang out with him so often.”  John said, angry and low, and Alexander gave a rough sigh.

“I don’t _have_ to, I want to.  He’s not so bad, John.”

John’s face suggested he believed the furthest from - but Alexander held firm.

“Why does this even _matter_ to you?”

John shot him a withering look, old hurt and accusations in his eyes that had Alexander nearly stepping back.  “You never fucking change.” John muttered, eyes narrowed.

“What?”  Alexander asked, unsure as a vapid pit of trepidation began to form in his gut.  

John scoffed, a hand rubbing at his temple.  “Always with Thomas _fucking_ Jefferson with you,” John looked up to meet his gaze, harsh and cold, and Alexander didn’t like where his friend was directing the conversation.  “Even back then - when we were -”

Alexander cut through his words, not wanting to hear the rest.  “John, that was _years_ ago, you said you were -”

“Over it?”  John finished for him, arms crossed tight over his torso and Alexander averted his eyes, swallowing.  “I was - am, who the fuck cares. You know how I feel about Jefferson. You _know_ and you still keep fucking _talking_ about him and hanging out with him over _me_ and it’s just…”  John broke off, a harsh breath before he continued, “fuck, man.  I’m done, fuck it - I’m going to bed.”

“Bed?  It’s barely two.”  Alexander said, quiet, anger exhausted in wake of his friends words as he watched the man turn to go to the rooms.

“Who the fuck cares, _napping_ , then.”  John said, waving a hand about the air.  “I’m taking your bedroom.” Was all he said before he left, the sound of a door opening and closing loud and echoing in Alexander’s ears.

He stood there for a few minutes, mind processing what transpired slowly.  He grabbed at his sleeves, too many thoughts ricocheting in his mind and eating at him.

He couldn’t bring himself to mull over what John dragged up - he’d have more time later, but for now -

Mulligan was leaving?

-

  * (3:25 p.m.) **alexham:** youre leaving to britain?
  * (3:28 p.m.) **literalhercules:** John told you?
  * (3:28 p.m.) **alexham:** and you werent going to?
  * (3:29 p.m.) **literalhercules:** Alex, I was going to.  Just not yet.
  * (3:29 p.m.) **alexham:** look, im sorry about missing the other day, i got sick
  * (3:29 p.m.) **literalhercules:** Im not upset with you, Alex.  People get sick. I was going to tell you tomorrow, since I was planning for us to hang at Lafs.
  * (3:30 p.m.) **alexham:** when are you guys leaving
  * (3:33 p.m.) **literalhercules:** End of next month, so we still have time to hang out, dont worry.
  * (3:34 p.m.) **alexham:** good.  thats good



Alexander stared at his phone, wide eyed and blinking.  

Relieved that Mulligan wasn’t mad he set his phone down, settling on the couch with shock.  His friend was still _leaving._  Both he and Lafayette would be gone, and he was unsure how he felt about that.

He rubbed at his chest, looking to the hallway where John had stormed off to an hour ago.

Why was John even bringing up the past?  It made Alexander’s head spin, old memories he’d long since chose to bury resurfacing and leading him nowhere.  There wasn’t any time to think on that, and what did John even mean by any of it?

Swallowing he picked his phone back up.

  * (3:43 p.m.)   **alexham:** mulligan and lafayette are leaving to britain next month
  * (3:46 p.m.) **jeffershit:** What?
  * (3:47 p.m.) **alexham:** i was supposed to meet with them for dinner the day i was sick
  * (3:47 p.m.) **alexham:** turns out thats when mulligan was planning to tell us all he got some big deal for his fashion bullshit and hed be leaving to britain for it
  * (3:49 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Oh.  Shit - sorry to hear that.



Alexander rubbed at his chest again, looked to the hallway.

  * (3:50 p.m.) **alexham:** you cool if i come over?
  * (3:52 p.m.) **jeffershit:** That’s fine if you want to.



He grabbed his shoes and shrugged into a thick jacket.  Tying his hair back he grabbed his laptop bag and passed one more glance to his bedroom door.

  * (3:55 p.m.) **alexham:** ill be over



-

Alexander, though he went to Jefferson’s with a single minded focus to get away from life currently, found his nerves lodged in his throat when he arrived at the Virginian’s front door.

His fist stayed poised above the wood, unsure of himself, and debating texting Jefferson he decided against going.  But he didn’t want to go home just yet, the imagery of John brooding in his apartment leaving a rancid taste in his mouth.  Reality was a cold front storming ahead, and if he kept his back to the winds, he wouldn’t have to think of it just yet.

He knocked, and waited anxiously the few seconds it took for the door to creak open.

“I brought your tupperware.”  He said as the door opened.

“Oh, thanks.”  Jefferson said, body peering around the cracked door, with one foot planted in the entrance.  Alexander looked down, and noticed the small white head of Jefferson’s cat trying to get around.  “Sorry, you’ll have to squeeze by Marmie, she likes trying to escape.”

“You named your cat Marmie?”

“And you called me _Jeffershit_ in your phone.”  Jefferson shot back as Alexander squeezed by.  He did his best to ignore the heat of the Virginian’s body as he moved past, deciding instead to focus on his words.

“You went through my phone?”  Alexander asked, quirking a brow at Jefferson.

Jefferson scratched at the back of his head, shrugging.  “Can’t avoid it when a phone notification pops up and I see my own messages.”  After a pause, “It’s a good name for me, to be honest.”

“Yeah?”  Alexander asked with a laugh, walking into the living room and taking in the sight of Jefferson’s home.  Last time he’d been there he’d been busy helping the taller man. He set the tupperware on the coffee table.  “Well, if you’re such a ‘samaritan’, what’d you name me?”

Jefferson went silent, his eyes staring at his wall of paintings - of _farms_ and _fields_ , because of course they were.  He mumbled something under his breath, and Alexander leaned forward, one hand cupping his ear to gesture for the other to speak louder.

“You may or may not be called ‘little shit’.”  Jefferson said, louder, and he went into his kitchen after grabbing the plastic ware Alexander returned.

“Wait, little?”  Alexander asked, moving to follow him, and he stood by the doorway.

Jefferson turned to him, halfway through pulling two mugs out of a cabinet.  He snorted, shaking his head and stepping up to Alexander until he was only a foot from him.  Alexander craned his neck up, hating the odd feeling that shot up his spine from the action.

“Hamilton, I don’t think you’re aware but,” Jefferson drawled, leaning down until he was eye level with Alexander, faces inches apart and Alexander crossed his eyes to keep gaze with Jefferson, “you’re not exactly tall.”

Alexander levelled Jefferson a glare, leaning back until he could see the Virginian’s dark brown eyes clearly.  “Jefferson, I don’t think you’re aware, but, you’re just tall.” Alexander snipped, and he watched as Jefferson pulled back, chuckling.

“Coffee or tea?”  Jefferson asked, waving the two mugs he was carrying.  

“Oh, uh - coffee.”  Alexander said, and Jefferson nodded.

Alexander leaned against the wooden table Jefferson had tucked in the corner of the small kitchen, and he sent a distasteful glance to the painfully southern red plaid drape over it.  He crossed his arms, looking to his feet and letting the sounds of Jefferson work in his kitchen lull him.

Jefferson hummed under his breath when he made drinks, here, too.

“Life must’ve shit on you if yer’ coming to me for solace.”  Jefferson said, taking some creamer out of the fridge.

Alexander looked up at him, stray bangs hanging in front of his eyes, and he swept them behind his ear, keeping his gaze locked somewhere around Jefferson’s collarbone.  He’d never seen Jefferson so casual, before, the man wearing a bathrobe over pajama pants and a tank top that left little to the imagination. His glasses were on, crooked, and Alexander wondered if he ever bothered to straighten them.

His hair was out of its usual ponytail, messy and wild, curls soft.

He looked like a person.

“My friend’s are pissed I’m talking to you.”  Alexander said, instead of the million other questions racking his brain.  Like _what happened between you and Lafayette?  Why are you working in a cafe, what happened to school?_

Jefferson snorted, “course they are.”  He gestured to himself. “I wasn’t exactly the most charmed to know back in Uni.”

Alexander’s eyes widened, and he wasn’t expecting Jefferson to say such a thing.

Jefferson noticed his look.  “I can admit I wasn’t the nicest.”  He said, eyes closed and shrugging.

“You weren’t.”  Alexander said dumbly, still staring at Jefferson.

Jefferson cracked an eye open to meet Alexander’s gaze, “you were pretty shitty too.  Off that high horse now.” He drawled, southern twang, and Alexander blinked out of his daze.

“What do you mean?  It was _your_ shitty opinions and political views, that I recall, started most of our fights.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes.  “Oh, please. Just because I actually care about our rural folk-”

“Please don’t say ‘folk’, it makes you sound _way_ too southern.”  Alexander said with a wince.

“Hamilton, I _am_ southern.”  Jefferson said with spread arms, “bred from the old dominion.”

Alexander held back a laugh.  Jefferson looked at him a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“ _Old dominion_ ,” Alexander said through huffs of laughter, “I can’t believe you call Virginia that.”

Jefferson made a sound of some sort, indignation, Alexander thought, before a hot mug was shoved at his chest.  “Laugh it up, half the populace of Virginia calls it that, you little shit. Here’s your latte, not iced.”

Alexander grabbed hold of the drink, looking up at the taller man and following him out to the living room.  “I like it hot, sometimes.” He said, and it was Jefferson’s turn to wince.

“You did _not_ just say that.”  Jefferson said, glaring at him as he settled on the couch.  Alexander sat down across from him, folding his legs under himself.

“You said ‘folks’ and ‘old dominion’, I think I’m allowed.”  Alexander said, and Jefferson hummed over his mug, sipping at the black coffee.  Alexander took a swig of his own, tongue singing at the heat, and he furrowed his brow.

“You got ice?”  He asked, and Jefferson chuckled.

“I’ll take care of that fer’ you, princess.”  He drawled, leaning over to grab at Alexander’s mug.  Alexander jolted at the brush of their fingers, and he only nodded when Jefferson left off to the kitchen.

“Better?”  Jefferson asked later, when he returned with an iced drink and handed it to Alexander.

The Virginian settled back on the couch, much closer to Alexander than before, and the shorter man stared at the scant distance between them, transfixed.  Nerves frantic at where there thighs brushed just so when Jefferson crossed his ankle over his knee. He took a drink, the cold refreshing and he nodded, looking to the blank television screen.

“Way better.”  Alexander confirmed.  “Hot coffee is for assholes,” he looked at Jefferson over the rim of his mug, “like you.”

Jefferson huffed, “thanks.”  He gave Alexander a thumbs up, and Alexander shot him a cheeky grin.

It was silent, for a moment, and Alexander appreciated the void.  The gentle buzzing in the back of his mind from their shared proximity, the flavour of caffeine on his tongue.

“So…”  Jefferson began, and Alexander’s hackles rose immediately.

“Nope.”  Alexander said, glaring now, and felt Jefferson’s eyes on him.

“Right.”  Jefferson muttered, and he looked down at his own coffee.

Alexander stared into the swirling mocha colours of his drink, watched the mesmerising shapes whenever he stirred it with a fingertip.

“Why is Lafayette pissed with you?”  Alexander asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop it.

He could practically hear the stiffening of Jefferson’s muscles.  He chanced a look, and almost regretted his words. But he wanted to know.

Jefferson sighed, hoarse and low and rough, and he set his drink down on the coffee table.

“Not right now.  You won’t talk, I won’t talk.”  Jefferson said.

“That’s fine.”  Alexander said, and it was, for now.

Jefferson turned the TV on.    

-

“You fine with Mac n’ Cheese?”  Jefferson asked, hours later and Alexander looked to the kitchen doorway.

“Works for me.”  He replied, before turning back to his laptop he pulled out a while ago to work.  His newest speech was coming along nicely, and he felt this one would be another to be done publicly, and not just posted on the net.

Halfway through a sentence a bowl was set down in front of him, an effective barrier between him and the keyboard of his computer, and he glared at the offending item.  No matter how good it smelled, it irked him.

“Time to eat.”  Jefferson announced, and Alexander pushed the bowl to the side.

“Thank you.”  He said offhandedly, focusing back on his work.

And was promptly stopped when his laptop clicked close, barely enough time to pull his fingers away to avoid collision.  He looked at the dark hand that pressed it shut, following the long line to land Jefferson's unimpressed face.

“What?”  Alexander snapped out, “I was working-”

“In the south where we learn ourselves good manners, we don't work and eat.”  Jefferson said.

“Well, sorry to burst your bubble but I'm not southern.”

Jefferson chuffed a laugh, “and sorry to burst yours but, my house - my rules.  Finish your dinner and wash your plate and you can work again.”

Alexander stared at the offending meal.  “Wash my plate? I'm a guest!”

“Guest you may be, little shit you still are.”  Jefferson said, grabbing Alexander's laptop before he could stop the man and setting it on a high shelf.  It looked to balance precariously alongside Jefferson's other knick knacks that resided there, and Alexander grabbed up his bowl.

“Fucking hell _fine_ , can you just not put her there?”

“ _Her_?”  Jefferson quoted with a quirked brow.

Alexander glared.  “You know what I mean.”  Jefferson chuckled, turning to sit and eat at his own meal.

“Your precious laptop is fine.”

Alexander chose to shovel food into his mouth instead of respond, eyes glaring at the side of Jefferson’s head and a moment later he felt something small and light land on his lap.  He looked down, confused, and noticed Marmie blinking wide eyed up at him.

“Oh, uh -” he muttered, and the cat meowed before shoving its head towards his bowl.  Alexander yelped, pulling his bowl away.

Marmie meowed again, louder this time and began pawing at his now extended arm that held his food safely away.

“Aw, give her a sniff.”  Jefferson said, his voice taking on a cooing edge, and the cat's tail once again shot up and she ran towards him.  She settled on his lap with a loud purr, more so when the Virginian let her sniff his bowl fully before he returned to eating.

Alexander watched, pulling a face.  “What if it-”

“She.”  Jefferson quipped without looking away from his food.

“What if she tries to eat it?  They bathe with their tongues, you know.”  Alexander said and Jefferson shrugged.

“Cats learn with their noses, she just wanted to know what I was eating,” Jefferson turned to look down at the small white creature, setting his fork aside to scratch under her chin, “didn't you girl?”  He said, tone soft and cooing.

Alexander practically gagged - he never got why people did that with their pets.

If Jefferson noticed his reaction he said nothing, a few more things said to his cat before she fell asleep on his lap.  All the while Alexander watched - eyes focused on the movement of Jefferson’s hand through her white fur, his food forgotten on the table.

“Thought in the south you guys finish your food.”  Alexander said.

Jefferson side eyed him, “hm, we do - but fortunately, we’re not in the south.”  And before Alexander could say anything about his earlier words, if they _weren’t in the south_ because that meant he could work, Jefferson shrugged what little he could in his position.

“‘Sides, I’m not hungry.”

“Oh.”  Was all Alexander thought to say, setting his nearly finished bowl down and shooting glances to his laptop.

Jefferson looked at him, head turned in his direction, and chuckled.  “Tell you what, if you put my dish in the kitchen and your bowl in the sink, you can finish your damn paper, or whatever it is you’re writing.  No need to wash it.”

Alexander put away the food and bowl record time.  However, as he stood in the kitchen, holding two bowls and staring into the sink, his fingers itched.  He looked to the entryway, where Jefferson was sitting, petting his cat and quietly watching TV.

With a sigh he washed his dish, putting it away on the drying rack.  He then grabbed the tupperware he returned, dumping the leftover mac n cheese from Jefferson’s bowl and putting it away in the fridge.  It was decently stocked, he noted, and closed the door to find Jefferson standing in the doorway.

“Jesus!”  Alexander muttered, jumping a little and Jefferson laughed under his breath.

“Marmie left to do whatever it is she does, so I was free to walk.”  Jefferson tilted his head to the sink. “You didn’t have too.”

Alexander shrugged.  “Yeah, but I did show up uninvited.”  He muttered, walking over to finish washing Jefferson’s bowl.  The taller man’s hand on his arm stopped him, and Alexander looked up at him.

“I got it.”  Jefferson said, and Alexander stepped back to let him wash it.  

It was late, nearly eight, and he’d have to return soon.  But then there was John and his words that made Alexander uncomfortable.  And there was Jefferson alone with his cat - tired and soft and tangible.

“Can I spend the night?”  Alexander asked, and Jefferson turned tired eyes to him.

“Hm?”  Jefferson hummed, and Alexander avoided his gaze, turning to look at the man’s hands wash away the suds on the bowl.

“John’s at my place right now, and he’s pretty pissed with me, so.  I mean - if you’re cool with it.” Alexander said, stumbling over himself and Jefferson set the dish in the drying rack next to Alexander’s.

“That’s fine.  I don’t have a spare bedroom but I do have a damn comfortable couch if you ask me.”  Jefferson said, and Alexander released the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

“Awesome, thanks.”  Alexander said, and he jumped a little when he felt Jefferson’s hand pat his shoulder - strong fingers squeezing in comfort before sliding away.  Alexander found himself missing the touch already, skin tingling.

“No problem, man.”  Said Jefferson, turning to walk to the living room, he paused in the entryway, however, “do you need some pajamas?  Might not fit, but it’s better than sleeping in jeans.”

Alexander looked down at his pants and grimaced - true.  “Yeah, I’ll take them.”

-

Alexander looked at himself in the mirror.  He looked _ridiculous_.  Jefferson gave him a matching, painfully classic, long sleeved striped set of pajama shirt and pants.  The damn sleeves hung past his fingers, and the bottom of the shirt was kissing him mid thigh. He didn’t even need to wear the pants, but for formality’s sake, he got into them.

He looked like a kid playing dress up.  Sighing, he tied the drawstring as tight as he could, folding the bottom of the pants until he could see his feet again.  Rolling the sleeves up as much he could without it bunching painfully, he shuffled out of the bathroom.

He entered the living room, looking to the couch where there was a - dear god - plaid blanket and pillow waiting for him.  His laptop was securely placed on the coffee table, a water bottle next to it.

Pulling his phone out he checked the time, quarter till nine, and Jefferson was nowhere to be found.  He looked down at the sound of soft paws padding, and spotted Marmie rubbing against his leg. She shot him a wide eyed look, meowing and he struggled for a moment.

He hadn’t had a cat in years - an uncomfortable amount of time.  Since before the ships.

“You can pet her, you know, she doesn’t bite.  Much.” Jefferson said, shocking Alexander and he turned to see the man leaning against the hallways entry.  He had a mug again, steam rising from it, and Jefferson shook it. “Tea. Helps me sleep.”

“You sleep at this time?”

“I wake up at four thirty.”  Jefferson dead panned, and he sipped at his drink before his eyes fully took in Alexander.  He pulled back from his mug, stifling a laugh. “You look ridiculous.” But his words were followed with a flush on Jefferson’s cheeks that made Alexander’s stomach flip.

“Not my fault you’re a giant.”  Alexander defended, crossing his arms and flopping onto the couch.  “Anyway, what’s with all the plaid? Seriously, can you get more southern?”  He grabbed at the red plaid blanket, shaking it at Jefferson and the man chuckled.

“Need I reiterate, Hamilton?”  Jefferson asked, and Alexander shot him a look.

“You say ‘old dominion’ and I’m going to poison your next meal.”

Jefferson huffed a breath.  “You’re talking to the guy that makes your coffee nearly every morning.”  He drawled.

Alexander hummed, settling himself on the couch fully and getting the stupid blanket wrapped firmly around himself.  “Yes, but I know where you sleep, now.”

“You’ve known for days, already.”

“It’s all part of my master plan,” Alexander said, peeking his head over the wall of the couch, “revenge is a dish best served cold, I need you comfortable.  You’re not forgiven for getting me sick.”

Jefferson laughed, a light sound that made Alexander’s heart skip, before his voice carried down the hall.  He must be heading to his room. “Good night, Alexander.”

Alexander’s head was halfway to the pillow before he realized what Jefferson had said.

-

_Alexander_.

He never heard his name on Jefferson’s tongue, before, and he rather liked the way the man said it, slow and sure.

He wondered what other things the Virginian would do, slow and sure.

There was a familiar throb between his legs, and he shot a surreptitious glance to the hallway.  It had been an hour since Jefferson retired, the lights off and leaving Alexander lying by himself on the couch in the dark.

He resolutely ignored the spread of warmth in his gut, rolling onto his side and glaring into the darkness of the couch.  Stupid, it was stupid.

Sleep took him eventually, but it wasn’t without an edge of want twitching his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowee gee a hint at nsfw im almost proud of myself
> 
> also lmao john ~~totesisntjealous~~ cant handle ur shit alex


	6. Three Weeks

_ But he had a cat, and he figured - _

_ Things could be worse. _

  * (9:28 a.m.) **alexham:** thanks for letting me stay the night
  * (9:34 a.m.) **jeffershit:** No problem.  Make sure to lock up on your way home this time.
  * (9:34 a.m.) **alexham:** ill leave the doors wide open
  * (9:36 a.m.) **jeffershit:** You’re too kind.
  * (9:36 a.m.) **alexham:** the kindest
  * (9:38 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Sure, believe that.  I’m going to go be productive now and work, unlike you.



Alexander sent Jefferson a picture of him flipping the camera off, and recieved a little thumbs up in response.

-

The air of his apartment was tense when he got back.  He closed the door behind himself, setting his laptop bag on the counter and turned at the sound of a throat clearing.  John was in pajamas -  _ Alexander’s  _ pajamas, and was looking decidedly unimpressed.

A beat of silence.

“I called Laf when you didn’t come home - and then Herc, and I know you’d rather eat nails than spend a night at Burr’s.”  John said, staring at his feet, arms crossed and leaning against the hallway entrance.

Alexander licked his lips, suddenly dry, and struggled for words.  “I wanted to give you some space.” He said, finally. “Didn’t think you wanted me around.”

“Alex,”  John began, tone flat, “this isn’t my home.  If I wanted space from you, I’d go  _ elsewhere _ .”  John sighed and raked a hand through his hair.  He stormed up to Alexander, and Alexander for his part tensed.

“John -”

John cut through him, “you dick, I was  _ worried _ about you.”  He muttered, pulling Alexander into a one armed hug and Alexander swallowed. 

He didn’t know how to react to this, not after the last words shared.  But he figured if John was willing to leave it alone, he was too.

“Sorry.”  Alexander mumbled into the embrace.

“Ugh, don't apologize, but if we get in a fight - text me when you decide to disney princess your ass and storm off.”  John said, pulling back to glare disapprovingly at Alexander. 

“Didn’t think you cared so much about me.”  Alexander said, attempting humour and was relieved when John chuckled.

John released him, walking to the kitchen and pulling out a bowl and cereal.  “It’s only because your home is a prime crashing site. Still though -” he held out a finger, “a fucking text never hurt anybody.”

Alexander laughed, “yes, mother.”  He said, and settled across the table from John when the man finished putting his breakfast together.

“You were at Jefferson’s.”  John said, and it wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t untrue.  His tone lacked hostility, and that made Alexander relax.

“Yeah.”  Alexander agreed.

“Don’t tell Laf, you’re not there to hear the ranting he does about Jefferson.  He _ almost _ sounds like you from Uni.”  John said, rubbing at his forehead and Alexander cocked a brow.

“I wasn’t that bad.”  He said, and John gave him a look.

“Alex, you were, like,  _ obsessed _ with the guy.  Always complaining about anything he did.  The way he  _ breathed _ , at one point.”  John said, taking a bite and his face took on a odd contemplative note.  “You know, it’s not really surprising you’re crushing on him now.”

Alexander sputtered, his face beaming scarlet and he stared wide eyed at John.  “ _ Excuse me _ ?” 

John hummed, “oh, so I was right.”  His face was humorous, but his tone was edged.

“Right about - no, no you’re  _ not _ right.”  Alexander stammered, heart hammering and he wanted to slap himself for walking into that one.

“Alex, I  _ know _ you, and need I remind you the thin fucking line between oh, love and hate.”  John said, leaning back in his chair casually and swinging an arm over the back.  He scrunched his nose in distaste, “but I have to say,  _ why _ Jefferson?  Couldn’t it have been Burr?  I can handle him.” A pause. “Sorta.”  Another. “Passive shit he is.”

Alexander pressed his face against the wood of the table, muttering indecencies and wishing the floor would open a hole just for him.  

“Relax, Alex, I’m not angry.”  John said, soft. “I was… upset yesterday.  Said some stupid shit - I’m still in shock Herc and Laf are leaving.  To Britain of all places. Among other things.”

Alexander kept his face down, not bothering to respond.  Stupid shit was right though.

“Oh my god, you’re acting like a thirteen year old.”  John said, and his tone was exasperated.

“I resent that statement.”  Alexander mumbled, voice obscured by the table.

“Don’t like the truth, change it.”  John said.

Alexander picked his face up, glaring at John who was still casually staring at him with bored eyes - guarded, almost.  It was all made worse because Alexander couldn’t necessarily deny John’s claim - he was, to quote, crushing on Jefferson.  But he was a grown ass man, so he went with infatuated. It wasn’t anything more than momentary fascination with something new and shiny.

Except this ‘new and shiny’ was Thomas Jefferson.  Who was, objectively, attractive. Tall, fit, and a smile that made kittens purr.  But he was also a person Alexander was coming to find, not bad to know. He was nice, and witty - and despite the shitty opinions he had, fun to debate and challenge.

He thought of Jefferson sitting on his couch, petting his cat, and the Jefferson in his mind looked at him and gave him a warm smile.  His heart skipped at the thought, and he felt a little like dying.

“God, you’re gross when you’ve got a crush.”  John said, cutting through his thoughts and Alexander blinked at him.

“John, I have a crush.  On  _ Thomas Jefferson _ .”

-

“What am I going to do?”  Alexander asked later, when they were seated in their lyft on the way to Lafayette’s.

John shrugged, buckling himself in and scrunching his brow in thought.  “Declare your undying love for him and run into the sunset holding hands?”  John said, smirking at Alexander and he glared back at his friend.

“I’m kidding.”  John laughed, patting Alexander’s shoulder before looking off.  “I don’t know, man, do what you did with all your other crushes.  Fuck it out of your system.” John’s hand stayed on Alexander’s shoulder a beat longer, John’s face a treasure trove of feelings that made Alexander blink.  He shifted his gaze to his lap, then, and John’s hand slid away.

Was he referring to -?  Alexander loathed to think on it, but he wasn't the one to bring it up  _ again _ .  He shifted, uncomfortable in his seat.

“John -” he began, hands clenched and John cut through him.

“Stick to what you’re good at, Alex, and get it done with before you get someone's hopes up.”  It was good advice, Alexander surmised, but John’s tone was detached, distant.

Those words left a pit in Alexander’s stomach, and he looked out the window.  It wasn’t like John was wrong, however, as that was his general approach whenever he got interested in someone.  Wine and dine them, and come morning, his infatuation would have worn off. 

It was like that most his life, save a few relationships here and there - a certain woman from his college days comes to mind - but it never really hurt him, per say.  Most of the people he slept with knew it was a no strings attached deal. And those who didn’t - well, he didn’t let it get to him, mostly.

John was one of the few who stayed and ended up becoming his closest friend, but sometimes Alexander had his doubts about it.  Recent events aside, John was being a salty bitch and deciding dredging up the past was a sound idea, and it left Alexander unsettled.

Worst yet was the fact that he  _ could  _ wine and dine Jefferson and be done with him in the morning. 

And it wasn’t like Alexander couldn’t pull it off - either.  He noticed the blush on Jefferson earlier, when the man saw him wearing his pajamas.  Other moments where the Virginian had been caught staring. There was an attraction - but the idea of leaving it to his usual habits made him fidget where he sat.  Uncomfortable.

“Ugh, I can’t deal with your manpain, tonights about Laf and Herc.”  John said, breaking his thoughts and Alexander gave a jerky nod.

John was right, time and place and all that, despite his friend being the one to bring up  _ that _ , and he rapped his fingers against his thigh.

“Can’t believe Lafayette had to run off and join him.”  Alexander said, just to say anything, really, and John let out a snort.

“Laf’s got a hardon for fashion - I would be worried if he  _ didn’t _ want to follow.  Maybe we’ll be seeing a Mulligan-Lafayette brand in the future.”

Alexander thought on that, then added, “oh, like Lafayette would take second place.  Lafayette-Mulligan.”

John finally laughed somewhat, “you’re right.  We’ll get in on the hottest suits in town, at least.”

“Yeah.”  Alexander agreed, and they sat in decently companionable silence the rest of the drive, the tense air of earlier dispersed.

-

Lafayette’s house was noticeably different when they arrived.  Alexander looked around in mild shock when he entered, many of the paintings and decor packed away and leaving the home almost desolate.  Plenty of furniture was still untouched, but Lafayette was one for flourish - and the lack thereof left Alexander unsteady.

“ _ Vide _ , isn’t it?”  Lafayette said, suddenly right by Alexander’s side and Alexander jumped.

He looked up at his friend, and the frenchman was giving him a grin.  Alexander could see the strain in how the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You okay?”  Alexander asked, and Lafayette’s grim smile vanished.  Replaced instead with something juggling joy and apprehension.

“Oh, I am fine.  Stressed, mostly.”  Lafayette said, one hand waving about the air.  “Packing away all my little things was a tad harder than I anticipated. _  Ils sont facilement cassés _ , after all.”

Alexander pursed his lips, looking to the obvious discolourments where pictures had long since hung.  “Aren’t you packing a little early?” He asked, turning to meet his friend’s gaze.

Lafayette shrugged.  “ _ Mon petite lion _ , time flies.  Besides, I am hardly the one to worry for.  You should see  _ mon coeur _ , poor thing has his head filled with fear for this deal.”  Lafayette said, and Alexander hummed.

“What’s he worried about?”

“He’s worried over nothing - he’s a brilliant designer.  This will be the ‘big break’, as you’d say, he’s been waiting for.   _ Sa chance de se prouver. _ ”

Alexander looked to the ground, scuffing his shoes on the carpet.  “What’s John going to do with you guys gone? I doubt he can pay for the full apartment.”

Lafayette laughed, and clapped a hand down on Alexander’s shoulder.  “My  _ petite ami _ , he is moving in with you.”  After a moment, Lafayette noticed Alexander’s confusion, “ah, he hadn’t said?”

“... No.”

“Well, he is planning to move in with you - you do have that spare bedroom.”  Lafayette said, jovial, and he smiled off to the side. “I do imagine he will be delighted to live with someone who won’t force him to model.”

Alexander chuckled at that.  “Ecstatic, you mean. Guy wears the same outfit for days on end.”

To this Lafayette pinched his own nose, leaning away from Alexander.  “Alexander, you do that.”

“I clean my clothes!”  Alexander vexed, and Lafayette quirked a brow at him.

“My nose digresses with you.”

“I digress with you.”  Alexander retorted.

Lafayette just laughed, setting a guiding hand on Alexander’s shoulder and leaving him to the kitchen.  “Come,  _ mon petite ami _ , I have take out and much alcohol we can talk over.”

-

“So…  Yeah. I’m moving to Britain next month.”  Mulligan said, a shy smile on his face, and he looked at Alexander.

Alexander cracked him a genuine smile - because he was happy for Mulligan.  His dream was taking off, and although it saddened him to see their group splinter, they’d always have each others backs.  He leaned over the table, patting Mulligan’s shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, man.  And also happy you’re dragging Lafayette with you.”  Alexander said, and snickered when the frenchman let out an undignified shout.

“He is not  _ dragging _ me,  _ petite sotte _ ,  _ I _ am dragging  _ him _ .”  Lafayette said with a huff, arms crossed and his cheeks were flushed with the drinks he had already ingested.

“Yes, because your work scored the deal.”  John said, grinning at Lafayette.

To this Mulligan let out an exaggerated sigh, sipping at his bottle.  “Actually, Lafayette is the one who agreed for me. I wasn’t planning on taking it.”

Alexander blinked wide eyed at Mulligan, confused by his words.  “Why wouldn’t you want the deal?” He asked, and Mulligan shrugged, sheepish.

“It would be - _is_ ,” Mulligan corrected, “ _is_ , a big move.  I’m excited, don’t get me wrong.  It’s just going to be weird.” He admitted, and Lafayette leaned over to clasp a hand on Mulligan’s.

“Oh,  _ mon coeur _ , you will be  _ bien beau _ ,” Lafayette pulled his hand away, taking another gulp of his bottle before slamming it down on the table, standing for dramatics.  “I shall shepherd you, and together we shall  _ être joyeux et prospérer _ !”  Lafayette spread his hands wide, and fell back into his seat with as much flair.

His chair dangled precariously, but Mulligan leaned over to right it with a small smile.  “I know, I appreciate it.” He said, tone warm, and Lafayette flashed Mulligan a joyful grin, french mutterings that sounded more gibberish than the sweet nothings the frenchman was probably attempting.  Alexander smiled at the display.

John, in his buzzed stupor, leaned back in his chair and wiggled his brow at the two.  He elbowed Alexander from where they sat, and gestured to Mulligan and Lafayette. “I think I know the real reason Lafayette’s running to Britain.”  John said, and he made an exaggerated mimed blowjob, to which he received a fit of french curses and a sputtered mess of drink from Mulligan.

“ _ Ferme ta bouche toi cul _ !”  Lafayette chided, wagging a finger towards the snickering John, but the effect was lost with how red the frenchman’s face was.  “ _ Aucun respect, aucun de vous. _ ”

“Sorry to say, Laf, but I have  _ no idea _ what you’re saying.”  John slurred with a grin, and Alexander couldn’t help but laugh at their antics.

“A-anyways, what we  _ were _ talking about,” Mulligan muttered out, his cheeks flushed and both his hands wrapped around his bottle.

“Britain, and how it’s a big change for you.”  Alexander helpfully supplied when Mulligan lulled on, the designers eyes locked onto the wood of the table.

Mulligan coughed, rubbing at the back of his neck.  “Right, yeah. It’s a big change. But I know I can do this with your guys support.”  He said, looking to all his friends.

Alexander gave him a double thumbs up, John giving some form of accolade, and Lafayette singing french praise under his breath, resting himself against the table.  He had drank the most thus far, four bottles lying empty around his head and one nearly fully done still clasped in his hand.

Alexander sighed wistfully as he watched Mulligan and John engage in conversation about the housing situation, something about leases and which items would go with Mulligan or John.  Lafayette was nearly passed out on the table, a line of drool forming. Mulligan and John quickly entered a shouting match about who owned the TV and gaming console, Lafayette muttering random intervals and -

Alexander was going to miss this.

-

Alexander entered the cafe, bag slung over his shoulder and he glanced over, blinking.  A customer was seated in his usual spot, and he resisted glaring before settling in the table closest to the counter.

“The usual?”  Jefferson asked from the counter where he was wiping down glasses.  There was a large cart full of cups and the like, and Jefferson passed him a sparring glance over his task.

“Make it blended this time, and an insane amount of whipped cream.”  Alexander said, flopping his head on the table. “Actually, just one whole cup of whipped cream next to it.”

Jefferson laughed, and Alexander’s heart leapt at the jovial sound.

But now was neither the time nor the place to think on that, as two of his closest friends were leaving and John was moving in with him.

“That bad?”  Jefferson asked, leaning on his elbows on the counter.

Alexander turned his face until his cheek was pressed to the cool metal of the table.  “Mulligan and Lafayette are leaving next month, and John doesn’t hate me for talking to you anymore.  I think.” Alexander rushed out, weight of the world pressing him down at that moment.

He didn’t miss the tensing of Jefferson’s face at the mention of Lafayette’s name, and watched as Jefferson turned around with a terse nod.  He started working on Alexander’s drink, tone controlled as he spoke, “that’s good - John, that is.” Jefferson stuttered out.

“Yeah.”  Alexander said, looking at the paintings adorning the wall.

The rest of his stay there was spent in silence, drink paid and whipped cream devoured slowly as Alexander mulled over his current stance in life.

-

“Jefferson’s not in today?”  Alexander said to Nadine, the older woman manning the cafe for the day.

She gave him a smile, more genuine now that he’d been a regular for some months.  “Ah, the boy asked the day off, something for that dratted cat of his.” She crossed her arms, looking to the side and muttering something that suspiciously followed the lines of calling out the cat for being more ancient than she was.

“Marmie’s not so bad.”  Alexander offered with a chuckle, and Nadine rested her hands on her hips.

“Don’t mention that little devils name to me, I should never have given him that beast.”  She said, shaking her head.

Alexander perked at that.  Oh? “You’re the one who gave him Marmie?”  He asked, leaning over the counter.

Nadine nodded.  “ _ Oui _ , he was disturbingly in need of companionship.  So I found him the old  _ chienne _ and they’ve been inseparable since.”  Alexander shocked a little at her cursing, but as he grew to know the older woman, he learned she had quite the temper.  “Martha  _ is _ getting up in her years… I’ll need to find him another cat soon…” She was mostly muttering to herself, but Alexander focused on the name she said.

“Marmie’s name is Martha?”  He asked, and felt he heard it before.  Perhaps Jefferson said the cat’s full name at one time.

Nadine nodded.  “Yes, but he refuses to call her anything but Marmie, the little brat he is.”  She stuck her tongue out before waving him off to the side. “Now gone with you, I have other customers.”

Alexander stepped out of the way, smiling at her before taking his leave.

-

“Is that the same artist?”  Alexander asked a handful of days later, seated at his usual spot again.  He’d been staring at the painting of a victorian era farmers market of sorts, and it struck him now how similar it was to the art he’d seen in Jefferson’s home.

“Hm?”  Jefferson looked over at him, wiping down the glass display for the desserts.

Alexander pointed to the paintings.  “Same artist - they look like the ones from your house.”

“Oh,” Jefferson gave off an odd chuckle, ducking his eyes back down to the glass.  “Yeah. Nadine had some extras about and gave them to me.” He said, but his explanation had a strange undercurrent.

Alexander hummed under his breath, staring at the strokes.  “Huh.” He breathed, tapping his fingers against his laptops keyboard.

“You like them?”  Jefferson asked into the silence, back to Alexander as he kept about cleaning the surfaces.

Alexander gave the rest of the paintings a once over.  “They’re pretty cool.” Alexander conceded after a moment.

Jefferson let out a small laugh, and Alexander was glad the man’s back was still to him, as the soft sound elicited an unwarranted smile on his own face.

He tapped his fingers against his table, staring off at the Eiffel tower painting, and when he turned to ask Jefferson a question he was shocked to find the man had been watching him.  He felt his gut tighten, and he glanced away to look at the menu hanging above the Virginian’s head.

“Martha is a stupid name for a cat.”  Alexander said, flashing back to examine Jefferson’s reaction.

Jefferson for his part blinked, refocused on cleaning the glass, and hummed an agreement.  “S’why I call her Marmie.” Then, “who told you her full name? It was Nadine, wasn’t it.” He finished with, but it wasn’t a question and Alexander chuckled.

“Yeah, she also told me how you were ‘disturbingly in need of companionship’.  How normal of you, Jefferson.” Alexander said with a sly grin, leaning over his table and he enjoyed the undignified scoff he received in turn.

“Call the presses, Alex, I’m  _ normal _ .”  Jefferson said, but it was in good humour, and all Alexander could focus on was the usage of  _ Alex _ .  It had him stupidly grinning, turning back to his laptop to restart typing.

“I will, it’ll make headlines.”

“Oh, will you include the part where I’m so ‘disturbingly in need of companionship’ that I’m deigned to hang out with a hobgoblin?”  Jefferson asked, tone light and shit eating grin on full.

Alexander glared over the rim of his laptop.  “More like graced with ability to.” And he stuck out his tongue, immature but laughing at the roll of eyes Jefferson gave.

“Shut up and get back to work, you.”  Jefferson snipped, and Alexander chuckled.

“Back at’cha.”

-

  * (12:37 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** yooooo i got all my shit in ur place :)
  * (12:38 p.m.) **alexham:** i told you not to move your shit until was i THERE
  * (12:38 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** oh
  * (12:38 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** woops
  * (12:39 p.m.) **alexham:** im going to burn all of your belongings



John hadn’t responded, so Alexander turned his attention back to his work.  He was almost finished with his newest speech, and he was excited to get it uploaded and sent off.

He was seated in his usual spot at Le Café Crème, typing away furiously until John had interluded.  They were planning to move in the rest of John’s stuff later that day, after both had finished their respective work - it was Friday, after all - but John seemed to be taking plenty of days off as of late.

“Don’t you look happy.”  Jefferson drawled to his left, and Alexander looked up from his seat to see Jefferson leaning against his broom.

“John moved his shit into my home.”  Alexander said, and Jefferson chuckled.

“Oh, yeah - that was happening today, right?”  Jefferson said, and Alexander rested his face in his hands.

“Yeah, but we were supposed to do it  _ together _ .”  Alexander groaned.  “He’s gonna mess it all up.”

Jefferson snorted, turning back to his task of sweeping.

“What?”  Alexander snapped out.

Jefferson levelled him a look.  “Alexander, you’re not exactly cleanly yourself.”  He drawled.

And oh, yeah -  _ Alexander _ .  Jefferson used his name now and that made replying hard. Alexander’s heart lodged in his throat, butterflies running amok in his gut and he chose to look at the Eiffel tower painting instead.

“I’ve been cleanlier.”  Alexander said, staring into the detailed brush strokes and he heard Jefferson laugh at that, the man returning to his task.

Alexander shot a furtive glance at the Virginian as he worked, curls bouncing in their ponytail and the man mouthing some soundless song.  It was distracting at best, but Alexander prided himself on not letting his newfound crush run him thus far. It changed little in their dynamic - as Alexander refused to let it - but it certainly made long term exposure difficult.

All the little things he previously let slide crawled on, fingers brushing with handed bills and drinks - eyes meeting for longer than a second, simply being near Jefferson’s person - all of it set Alexander on edge.

It was tripled whenever the Virginian said his name, all casual, like it wasn’t something that should mean  _ anything _ \- mean  _ everything _ .

He swallowed, fingers digging into the table and avoiding Jefferson’s eyes whenever he glanced over.

“Well, aren’t you just a lovesick girl.”  Said someone entirely too close to his ear, and Alexander jolted back.

His eyes focused on John’s freckled face, beaming at him bright and nearing something that Alexander could label aggressive, but that was neither here nor there.

“John?”  Alexander asked, shocked, as John settled at the seat directly across from Alexander.  His friend had proclaimed not a few days ago his vehement dislike of Jefferson, yet here he was, willingly, and John had hard eyes locked on the Virginian’s back as the man worked.

His friend shifted his gaze back to Alexander’s, chin tucked in hand, and he had a decidedly bored glaze to his eyes.  “So, this is where you spend all your time?” John asked, and Alexander had a hard time answering, still reeling over John’s presence.

And also the first time any of them had been near Jefferson since Uni.  He looked over to the barista, but the man was busy with a couple customers, and if he noticed John’s presence, he had yet to let it show.

“It’s got a nice atmosphere.”  Alexander said, swallowing and resting his elbows on the table, feigning indifference.  John snorted.

“It’s ruined by your swooning and Jeffershit’s stupid face.”  John said with a crinkled nose.

Alexander furrowed his brow, squinting his eyes at John.  His cheeks flushed, however. “I’m not  _ swooning _ , I was focusing on my work.”  And with a furtive glance to Jefferson ensuring the man hadn’t noticed, he glared at John, “and Jeffershit’s -  _ Jefferson’s,  _ face isn’t stupid.”

“Right, Jefferson is just the prettiest boy ever,” John cooed.

Alexander’s face beamed, “shut  _ up _ , I am working.”  Alexander hissed.

“Oh, so your work is Jefferson’s ass?”  John shot at him, not entirely kind.

Alexander shot forward, slapping a hand over John’s mouth.  “Shut up!” He whispered harshly, and John gave a brisk laugh and leaned back, until he was safely out of Alexander’s reach.

“Calm down, will you?  The guy’s working.” John said, arm slung over the back of the chair and it was like they were back to their first conversation in Alexander’s kitchen, when he called out Alexander on his crush.

Alexander looked over to Jefferson, the man shooting him a cockeyed look before shaking his head and resuming work.  Alexander didn’t miss Jefferson’s momentary doubletake when he noticed John.

Jefferson quirked a brow, a question in his eyes and Alexander hopelessly shrugged, Jefferson looking ready to make a vocal ask when customers stepped up and the Virginian was properly distracted.  

Alexander cleared his throat, resettling in his seat and shooting a suspicious glare to John.  “ _ Anyway _ , we’re not talking about that.  What are you doing here?”

John looked around the cafe, giving Jefferson a far too friendly-not friendly wave and smile that the worker awkwardly returned, before his attention returned to Alexander.  “Took a day off to just get the move over with, and seeing as it’s not even two, I’m bored as fuck.”

“And how's that’s my problem?”  Alexander asked.

“We’re roomies again, so, yeah - that’s how.  C’mon, we should hang out!” John said, leaning forward in his seat, wide eyed and bright.

Alexander had a hard time saying no to his friend when the idea would get him far away from Jefferson, and it was a far better subject than the other.  “We can hang out after this place closes.” He levelled out, and John frowned, sitting back in his seat.

“But that isn’t for  _ hours _ .”  He griped.

“Tough luck.”  Alexander said with a grin, resuming his work on his laptop.

John brooded for a second, before his face took on a dangerous smile.  “Oh, sure sure - I’ll just saddle myself up to the counter and meet this new Jeffershit that’s got you all blushing.”  John said, casual, and Alexander’s face fell.

“You know what, leaving now is an  _ awesome _ idea.”  Alexander sputtered out, standing, packing his laptop away, and slinging his bag over his shoulder in one quick succession.

He was a tad too late however, as John was already marching over to the worker who looked just as panicked as Alexander felt. 

“John, don’t you dare-”

“Jeffershit, my old friend!”  John cheered, slapping his hands down on the counter and gleaming right up at Jefferson.

Jefferson blinked, opening his mouth a few times before speaking.  “Hello to you too, uh, Laurens.” Jefferson said, glancing at Alexander with pleading eyes and before Alexander could intervene John spoke up.

“Golly gee, I was in the area Jefferson, and I couldn’t help but notice the  _ shining  _ my best pal ever, Alexander was -”

“And what a crazy time we need to leave John, did I tell you we were hanging out today like all day, because I did just now.”  Alexander spewed out zero seconds flat, and John gave him a rueful grin as Alexander began tugging his friend far far away from Jefferson.

“Nice seeing you, Jefferson, please enjoy your day!”  John called out with a laugh as he was forcefully dragged outside.

Alexander was pretty sure Jefferson said something in turn, but he could care less as long as he got John out of the cafe.

“I can’t believe you, you asshat,” Alexander muttered, straining when his friend planted his feet, effectively halting them outside the cafe’s storefront.  “What?” Alexander snapped, looking back at John who seemed to be heavily preoccupied with peering into the store.

John hummed, free thumb tucked into his pocket and shrugging his arm out of Alexander’s grip.  His friend looked up to the sky, contemplative thought on his brow, and Alexander wished he’d just hurry the fuck up.  “Oh, just thought it was interesting watching Jefferson get hit on by that chick. Seemed she swooped in to cure the confusion I gave your little ole Jeffboy.”

Alexander shocked, eyes widening and he shot a surreptitious glance back to the cafe.  “What?” He bit out, quick and hostile and John laughed, a thumb jutting at the short brunette who left the coffee shop shortly after them.

“I think she left him her number.”  John said, and side eyed Alexander with a grin.  “Looks like  _ someone _ has competition.”  John singsonged, and Alexander felt his face burn.

“That - that’s not,” Alexander stopped himself, breathing once before continuing, “it’s not important.  Nor is it  _ our _ business, John.”  Alexander finished, one hand gripping his bags strap, the other stiff by his side.

And it wasn’t his business at all, really - Jefferson  _ was _ attractive.  It was only logical he’d be hit on.  Still - it made his stomach churn nervously, and he drowned the feeling.  Whatever. It wasn’t like he planned to follow through with his infatuation, after all.

There were other matters to focus on, anyhow - Mulligan and Lafayette’s move, John’s stuff being hamfisted into his home.  Work, all that business.

He sighed through his nose.

-

“My lunch is just depressing with you brooding over there.”  John deadpanned, chin in hand, and before Alexander could respond a fry flew at his face, bouncing off his forehead and rolling listlessly on the table.

Alexander rubbed at the oil left on his head with a grimace, flicking the fry back towards John’s side of the table.

“And my life is depressing with you breathing near me.”  Alexander shot back, leaning against the diner booth seat.

They went to lunch at a rather homely restaurant, checkered red and white tile and plastic cherry leather seats.  There was a bar with stools that served piss coffee and was waited by a rather unenthused woman. The music in the back was a throwback to the fifties, and Alexander surmised from the decor it was going for the classics vibe.

John snorted over his milkshake, “as if, without me you’d be insane.”

Alexander thought on that a moment - and he figured, yeah, John had a point.  Out of all his friends, John was the closest he’d ever had, despite how edgy he’d been lately.

And seeing as John was the only one  _ not _ leaving the country, Alexander could overlook his pissy jealousy.

Still, he would hate to concede a loss, so he stayed silent, sipping at his soda and glaring at the linoleum of the table.  

“Your silence just proves my point.”  John said with a grin, arm slung over the back of his seat, the other waving his melting milkshake about.

Alexander shrugged, leaning back against the leather of the booth and sighing.  He scraped one hand through his hair, mussying his bangs and dislodging his ponytail.  John just stared at him, eyes sympathetic.

“Can’t believe they’re  _ leaving _ .”  Alexander said, turning to look outside the stained windows of the diner.

“Yeah, but I guess it’ll be just like old times.”  John said, rubbing at his neck.

Alexander looked over at him, “how so?”

“Oh, you know - Herc’s screaming through deadlines with Lafayette behind him, and you and me dicking about in our dorms, making that blog of yours big.”  

Alexander smiled a little at that.  “We did barely see them during Uni, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but that’s how life goes, right?”  John said, and his tone turned melancholic.  “We get older and separate, but we’re lucky these days - got phones.”  He said with a smile as he waved the small device around.

“You’re not wrong.”  Alexander agreed.

John returned Alexander’s gaze, before breaking to look off somewhere over Alexander’s shoulder.  “‘Sides, at least we’ve got each other, right?” He said, and Alexander blinked at the question.

“Well duh.”  Alexander replied, and John’s shoulders lost some tension Alexander didn’t notice they previously had.  With that said, the rest of their day was spent chatting about pointless things. The coming month of Lafayette and Mulligan’s departure momentarily forgotten, and the irritation of Jefferson being flirted with buried.

-

Alexander’s thumb hovered over the send button on his messenger, nerves frayed.  It was late at night, but there was a probability that he was still awake. John had long since retired, exhausted from the hours of getting his stuff semi-neatly compacted in his new room at Alexander’s.

Now Alexander was nervously fidgeting about on his bed, glaring at his phone and feeling stupid.  

It was never this hard before.

With a rough sigh through his nose, he sent the message and threw his phone to the bed, flopping irritably on his side and staring out into the darkness of his room.  It wasn’t even that out of place a thing to say, trite, really, but since his realization he was charmed by Jefferson, everything was magnified.

  * (11:42 p.m.) **alexham:** howd your day go



A few minutes passed before his phone buzzed.  He turned over, breathing a moment before he grabbed at it.

  * (11:45 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Not bad, watching you run off was pretty funny.



Alexander wanted to slap himself silly when that message made his stomach flip.

  * (11:45 p.m.) **alexham:** i felt like not ruining your day with any more of johns fuckery
  * (11:45 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Aw I’m touched.
  * (11:46 p.m.) **alexham:** dont get used to it



A moment of nothing.

  * (11:48 p.m.) **alexham:** anything of note happen today
  * (11:48 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Aside from you waking me up to make conversation, not really.
  * (11:49 p.m.) **alexham:** sorry not sorry
  * (11:49 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Hah, fair.  A girl left me her number, that was a thing.



Alexander swallowed.

  * (11:50 p.m.) **alexham:** oh really?
  * (11:50 p.m.) **jeffershit:** She’s not the only one, but she was by far the most insistent I take her number.  She wants to hang out tomorrow night.



Alexander couldn’t help the stab of jealousy and dread that hit his gut.

  * (11:51 p.m.) **alexham:** thats cool, you planning to meet up with her
  * (11:51 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Not really, but I don’t have anything planned after work.  Might as well.
  * (11:51 p.m.) **alexham:** thats fair
  * (11:52 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Are you suggesting I’m doing something fair?  Mark this on a calendar.



Alexander snorted, but the pit of jealousy still bit at his throat.

  * (11:52 p.m.) **alexham:** oh get back to bed you douche
  * (11:52 p.m.) **jeffershit:** Thanks, your majesty, I’ll be sure to go back to sleep.



In the renewed darkness of his room when he turned his phone’s screen off, Alexander flopped face down, burying his head in his pillow.  He let out a groan of piteous anger, breathing in his own hot exhaust and feeling like a child.

It wasn’t his business, anyhow.

-

“Another round!  _ S'il te plaît et merci _ !”  Lafayette’s voice rang loud, jovial and slurred and a clear pointer of how much alcohol he had consumed.  The frenchman had one arm slung over Mulligan’s shoulder, John clinging to the free side of the designer and Alexander leaning heavily on John.

They were singing merriments and storming through the streets of New York, drunk off their asses.

“No one is here to give us  _ more _ beer.”  John stressed, giggling as he did so, but Lafayette paid him no mind.  Songs in slurred french that only Alexander really understood, that begged the passer bys for more alcohol.

“I think we’ve had enough.”  Mulligan muttered, but the flush on his cheeks and the grin on his face was prominent.

“Nonsense.   _ Nous venons tout juste de commencer, mon amour! _ ”  Lafayette replied, and Alexander let himself sway with his friends as they trudged down bright streets and through crowds of people.  They were headed back to Lafayette’s, as his home was the closest, and Alexander stared at them through a drunken haze, memorizing the details of their faces.

Three short weeks and they’d be gone.

John elbowed him in the gut, breaking his thoughts, and he lazily blinked as John pointed to Lafayette and Mulligan struggling to open a door.  Lafayette’s door, Alexander realized, and he laughed as the frenchman finally remembered keys were a thing.

A moment of struggle and the door flung open, all four men pouring into the home and each finding the most comfortable spot to finally get horizontal.  Mulligan and Lafayette crashed down on the frenchman’s luxurious white couch that had yet to be packed, and John and Alexander both found themselves thanking the world that Lafayette had such nice carpeting, as they found their new sleeping spot on the insanely soft rug by the comforter.

Alexander curled into the ground, grappling for the fancy designer blankets Lafayette tossed over his recliners and found sleep quick and easy.  Lulled by the sound of his friend’s settling and laughter as they also passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> john is salty(tm)
> 
> also to any french speakers
> 
> forgive my shitty google translate
> 
> forgive it well


	7. Wanna Hang Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im a pastry maker for a v fancy restaurant and today someone bought out the whole thing and they had me on service as a food runner WHILE prepping the desserts so let me tell you I TRIED TO GET THIS OUT BEFORE IT HIT MONDAY AND I FAILED WIOPS ENJOY

_So he set out to make for himself a life._

_And he locked the door behind as he went._

  * (7:09 a.m.) **jeffershit:** You down to hang out today?



Alexander roused from sleep, blearily blinking at the message on his phone and sliding through his lock screen.  He remembered crashing at Lafayette’s place, him and John tangled in the same blankets on the ground. John had stolen most of the covers, starfished limbs taking up more space, and he grimaced, yanking more blanket around himself.

He hadn't dranken much last night, thankfully, too busy enjoying his friends and watching them to really partake in it.

However, he now lay staring at his screen, wide eyed because he hadn’t expected such a request.  He couldn’t deny the little flip his stomach gave, and he glowered at his hands a moment.

  * (7:11 a.m.) **alexham:** you wanna hang out with -me-
  * (7:11 a.m.) **alexham:** im touched
  * (7:11 a.m.) **alexham:** and also disturbed, are you aware its 7 am on a sunday



He _was_ confused, as Jefferson had a date last night, there had been radio silence on his phone.  Alexander had become accustomed to texting Jefferson daily now, the lack thereof was painfully noticeable.  But he didn’t bring the point up, though curiosity urged him too.

  * (7:13 a.m.) **jeffershit:** I’m well aware, but seeing as I’m an adjusted person, it’s a perfectly reasonable time.
  * (7:13 a.m.) **alexham:** im adjusted enough
  * (7:14 a.m.) **jeffershit:** You go to bed at 4 am on the regular, and wake up early.  That’s not adjusted, hate to inform you.
  * (7:14 a.m.) **alexham:** i only wake up early because your stupid cafe is open ungodly early
  * (7:15 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Because we supply the good workers of our nation coffee -before- work.
  * (7:15 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Anyway, you good to hang out?



Alexander stared at the message, then turned to the face of his friend snoring, one hand scratching at his crotch in his sleep and wrinkled his nose.  The scent of John’s breath was none too pleasant, either.

  * (7:16 a.m.) **alexham:** sure, whatd you have in mind
  * (7:16 a.m.) **jeffershit:** I have a few errands to run today, but afterwards I was going to watch a few movies at my place.  Despite the pain it brings me, you’re the only person around right now I’m willing to offer this to.



Alexander would be lying if he claimed that his heart didn’t skip stupidly then, despite the dredge of jealousy that scraped at him.  It was odd Jefferson wanted to hang out so early when he had met someone last night. Unless, of course, the date had gone awry.

The possibility had Alexander ruefully smiling, if a little.

  * (7:17 a.m.) **alexham:** cool im down
  * (7:17 a.m.) **alexham:** where we meetin up?
  * (7:18 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Well I won’t be done with my stuff until 11, unless you don’t mind watching me shop.



Alexander stood up from the ground, almost tripping on his legs until they righted themselves.  He stretched out, yawning and looking around himself. John had now curled entirely with his blanket, and the sight on the couch had Alexander stifling a laugh.

Lafayette and Mulligan were passed out together on the small space, limbs tangled, and Alexander barely resisted the urge to snap a shot.  Instead, he collected his jeans and bag, toeing into his shoes.

  * (7:21 a.m.) **alexham:** a chance to watch a jefferson in its natural habitat? how can i pass that up
  * (7:22 a.m.) **jeffershit:** Wow, I almost regret asking you.  Meet up at the cafe round 8?
  * (7:23 a.m.) **alexham:** sure, see you then



Alexander shot one look to John sprawled on the ground, and to Mulligan and Lafayette.  A small flip of guilt at leaving but Jefferson had actually asked him to hang out - and Alexander couldn’t deny it made him feel giddy.

It was odd, though, Alexander figured, that Jefferson had asked him of all people to hang with on his day off.  They saw enough of each other during Jefferson’s work hours, not that Alexander would be found complaining about that now.  

Alexander shrugged off the disconcerting feeling, shaking his head and stepping out the door.

As he stepped out he sent one text to John, so when they woke they wouldn’t be too confused as to where he went off to.  And maybe if he did that, it’d lessen the inevitable salt John would toss his way.

  * (7:28 a.m.) **alexham:** something came up so im leaving early



-

Alexander almost regretted not giving himself a thorough once over before leaving, his reflection in the glass windows of the cafe revealing his person to look rather unkempt.  His clothes were rumpled, eyebags prominent and he prodded at them a moment before going about righting his hair.

He pulled it out, fixing the ponytail and smoothing down his clothes, trying to rub out the wrinkles.

“Alexander.”  Jefferson drawled, suddenly a few feet behind him and Alexander turned, muffling a shocked gasp and giving the taller man a wave.  He must have been too preoccupied with his reflection to notice the man coming up on him.

However, his mouth dried at the sight Jefferson made.  He hadn’t seen the man in casual day attire before, not since re-meeting him in the tiny cafe, and what a thing it was.  A deep purple button up rolled to elbows and fitted black jeans, and Jefferson’s hair was out of it’s hairband, allowed to cascade about the man’s face.

Alexander blinked, feeling more and more like something the cat dragged in compared to Jefferson.  It struck him, odd, how he never before noticed how attractive the Virginian was - but then again, there was no denying the smug behaviour of Jefferson from Uni, and the over zealous nature that brought them into many arguments.

Although many peers would suggest the zeal came from both ends, Alexander was more or less cemented in his own worth, convinced he was the better and smarter of the two.

Now he was left unsure of where to place his feet around the man, when before contempt came so easy it was as natural as breathing.

“Jeff -” Alexander stopped himself, and with only a moment's hesitation, “Thomas.”  The name felt weird on his tongue, heavy but not unpleasant.

Jefferson - _Thomas_ , his mind insisted - pulled a face.  “Don’t hurt yourself there.” He said, but his tone was light, and Alexander chuckled.

“Over you?  Fat chance.”  Alexander replied, and Thomas shot him a smile before strolling off in the direction of the business district.  Alexander followed after, frowning a moment as he had to increase his speed to keep pace with the taller man. “So, what’s first?”

Thomas hummed, pulling out his phone and scrolling through what looked like to be a document of sorts, from what Alexander could see from his vantage.  “Pharmacy, to pick up Marmie’s medicine.”

“Your cat needs medicine?”  Alexander asked, shooting a curious glance up at Thomas.

“She’s not exactly young.  She’ll be pushing seventeen soon.”  Thomas said, and his smile was radiating pride for the tiny thing his cat was.  Alexander widened his eyes at that, remembering Nadine’s words, but he had no clue Marmie was _that_ old - she certainly didn’t behave ancient.

“Huh.”  Alexander said, one hand clasped around his bags strap.

They walked in companionable silence, Alexander shooting glances up at Thomas, and he noted the tired lines drawn on the man’s face.  They were more prominent, and he had a mind to ask, find out if it had anything to do with the night previous, when Thomas turned bright eyes his way.  The exhaustion previously marring his face gone, if momentarily.

“Do you have pets?  There weren’t any when I was at your place.”  Thomas said, curious eyes, and Alexander shrugged at his question.

“A cat, once, when I was a kid.”  He said, tone careful and controlled as his younger years weren’t the nicest to recall.  But he did remember his cat, small tabby tom, who he found dying as a kitten on the streets.

There was kinship to be found there, when he was younger, and he smiled at the memory.

Thomas smiled a little.  "Never thought to get another one?"

Alexander shrugged, looking off to the side and deciding he cared not so much for the topic.  He couldn't replace his cat - no point to. "Naw."  Was all he said.

Thomas seemed to sense his disinterest and changed topics to some pointless mention of weather, and Alexander felt grateful.

-

“Alright, medicine retrieved.”  Alexander said, waving the white bag around that he insisted on carrying.  “What’s up next?”

“Grocery shopping.”  Thomas supplied, holding the door open for Alexander as they exited the pharmacy.  Alexander cast a glance at the long strong line of Thomas’ arm before looking forward once more.

“It’s barely nine thirty.”  Alexander said, looking up at Thomas.

Thomas didn’t understand the implication, and quirked a brow.  “Yes, it is.” He drawled, but his tone inquired the point.

“You said you wouldn’t be done until eleven, you saying you spend hours just shopping for yourself?”  Alexander asked, the idea ludicrous, and Thomas turned his nose up at Alexander.

“I like being healthy,” Thomas said, “unlike you, I’m going to be fit as a fiddle come my eighties.”

Alexander snorted.  “Oh, yeah? Least I’ll be enjoying myself.”

It was almost shocking when Thomas laughed quietly, striding along next to Alexander, “fair.”  The Virginian said, and Alexander wondered if he’d be waking up eventually. If he’d come to find all this a dream.

-

Thomas leaned over the handle of the shopping cart he was pushing and began plucking items out, shoving them back Alexander’s way.  “Put those back and grab the organic brand.” Thomas said, and Alexander looked at him offended.

“But these came from across the store!”  Alexander shot back, holding the boxes of noodles close.  “What’s even the difference?” He practically whined, and Thomas just rolled his eyes.

“Pesticides and GMOs, that’s what.  You agreed to grab em’ for me, least you can do is do it right.”  Thomas drawled, leaning his elbows down on the cart and coming down eye level to Alexander with a challenge in the curve of his brow.

Alexander squinted his eyes, mouth opening and closing before resting in what one could consider a pout.  “Fine.” Alexander settled with, ignoring the chuckle from Thomas as he stormed off to collect the correct brand.

Although this Thomas was akin to someone entirely new, there were certain aspects that reminded him that this was, indeed, Thomas Jefferson.  Still though, he couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying his time out with Thomas - he needed air from his friends, some time to really think. Although space from the Virginian might also prove useful for the other scattered bits of his thoughts - one thing at a time, he figured.

“This good enough for you?”  Alexander said, tone snide as he deposited the organic vegetable penne noodles into Thomas’ cart.  Thomas peered at them, before grinning at Alexander and completely trampling the shorter mans ire.

“Why, yes it is, thanks.”  And it didn’t help Alexander that Thomas managed to sound _genuine_ now.

“Yeah, no problem.”  Alexander muttered, turning to look at the absurd amount of cheese sitting in the cart’s tray.  “You like cheese.” Alexander observed, mirth hidden in his tone and Thomas shrugged.

“I like mac n’ cheese.  Can’t stand the boxed shit, though.  So I make it myself, different cheeses - spice it up.”  The Virginian supplied, and Alexander nodded.

“Mac n’ cheese isn’t exactly healthy.”  Alexander pointed out, and Thomas flustered a little.

“Neither is drinking coffee every hour of the day.”  Thomas shot back, gesturing to the latte they purchased earlier by the stores cafe that Alexander was cradling close.

Alexander quirked a brow, “never claimed I was healthy.”

To this Thomas sputtered obscenities quietly, pushing the cart along while Alexander trailed after, laughing softly.

-

“You cool with grilled cheese?”  Thomas called from the kitchen. Alexander was seated on his couch, typing away on his laptop and ignoring the warm presence of the cat on his lap.

She settled there the second he sat down, and although her owner was close by, she apparently found Alexander’s thighs a fitting resting spot.

She looked up at him, wide eyed, and he could see why Nadine was against the cat.  Her stare was downright _creepy._

“Nadine thinks your a _chienne._ ”  He said, and Marmie for her part meowed.

“No, you don’t get it, she’s already plotting your replacement.”  He expressed, because clearly she could understand him if he spoke slow enough.

Marmie made a strange chorting sound, butting her head against his nearest hand and he sighed.  He was talking to a cat. He offered Marmie a few nervous pats, refusing to be charmed by her low rumbling purrs, and returned his focus to the google doc opened before him.

Thomas called out from the kitchen again, "Grilled cheese work?"

“That works, yeah.”  Alexander finally answered, hearing Thomas affirm it with some clangs of pots and the opening and closing of a fridge.

He resumed typing, letting the thrum of Marmie’s purrs and the sounds of Thomas cooking lull him, fingers flying over the keyboard.  His recent published speech, Apron of Mediocrity, was doing incredibly well, and he’d already received a couple offers to read it aloud to a few of the colleges in the area.  It’d be fun - he always enjoyed public speaking, and it’d been sometime since he’d done it.

“Lunch is ready.”  Thomas said, and Alexander mumbled some response or the other, too focused on what he was writing now.

A moment later and a shadow appeared over him, one hand waving in front of his face.  “Come on, I’m not letting you eat a grilled cheese on my clean couch.” Thomas said, free hand lax on his hip, and Alexander barely spared him a glance.

“I ate mac n’ cheese here.”  Alexander supplied, still typing.

Thomas crossed his arms.  “Well tough luck, but I didn’t clean the couch last you were here.  Now c’mon, while it’s still hot.” Thomas gestured for Alexander to follow him to the kitchen, and when that failed, the man had the audacity to pick up the laptop when Alexander was mid sentence.

Alexander almost lunged up with it, but the warning claws Marmie dug into him at the tensing of his thighs stilled him, and he chose the much safer route of glaring daggers up at the Virginian.  “Hey! I was almost done!”

“Funny, I was too.”  Thomas retorted, and Alexander uselessly grasped for his laptop.

“Just five more lines.”  Alexander borderlined pleaded.

Thomas snorted, eyes rolling before the man strolled off, balancing Alexander’s laptop in one confident palm and Alexander’s eye twitched at the sight.  He nearly forwent the warning from the cat, but then he remember the animal was practically ancient, and he’d feel more than guilty if he flung her in some random direction.

“You’re gonna drop my laptop!”  Alexander screeched at Thomas’ retreating back, and the Virginian returned his ire with his free hand flipping Alexander off before he rounded the corner into the kitchen.

Alexander turned panicked eyes down towards the cat, still purring and kneading his legs, and he made wild gestures around her.  “Shoo, off, be gone.” He whispered harshly, but the cat only blinked one eye up at him, her ears twitching with his words but otherwise making no movement to leave.

“What the hell is this bullshit, ‘ _Fight the Rag of Uncertainty_ ’?”  Thomas said, voice loud from the kitchen doorway.  “Is that seriously the best title you could come up with?”  Thomas’ voice was full of amusement, and Alexander’s ears burned.

“Work in progress!”  He shouted back, “which _you_ so rudely disrupted!”

“And you’re disrupting my lunch!”  Thomas returned.

“How am _I_ disrupting your lunch?  You invited me here!”

“Because I can’t eat until _your_ ass gets in here.”

“Eat without me then.”

“Sorry, I believe in common courtesy, and me being such a gracious host - I can’t eat until all my guests are seated.”

Alexander fumed.  “That’s bullcrap!”  He shouted, petulant.

“Then get in here and use your words to prove it to me.”  Thomas challenged, and Alexander glared at the doorway.

After a moment of silence, “Well?”  Thomas drawled, and he peeked his head round the corner.

“I can’t.”  Alexander mumbled.

“Can’t what?”  Thomas pressed.

“I can’t move with your stupid cat on my lap!”  Alexander snapped out, and Thomas laughed then, a joyous sound that dented Alexander’s annoyance.  The man lumbered over to him, carefully picking up his cat and resting her against his chest, where she took residence on his broad shoulders with a purr.

“You can just pick her up, you know.”  Thomas said, one hand scratching his cat’s chin.

Alexander chose to mime the words back to Thomas, standing and shaking the sleep from his legs.  “Easier said than done.” He said, storming into the kitchen. He looked around the room furiously, not able to spot his laptop.  “Where’d you put her?”

Thomas entered the kitchen, Marmie still on his shoulder and laughing under his breath.  “Oh, I’d love to see you reach it.” Thomas drawled, mirthful tone.

Alexander saw his laptop, then, and gaped at the precarious spot.  She was carefully tucked between the top of the cabinet and ceiling, and wouldn’t be reachable with his height without climbing.  He turned to glare at Thomas, who was now seated at the table and rapping his spoon against his bowl of tomato soup. The Virginian’s eyes were lidded, looking up at him with bored amusement.

“I can’t reach that.”  Alexander said, tone serious.

“No, you can’t.”  Thomas agreed with a faux solemn expression.

Alexander sat down at the table with a huff, looking over his lunch.  Simple grilled cheese and bowl of soup, an american classic, almost, and he glanced back up at Thomas.

The man gave him an expectant look, to which Alexander rebutted, “what?”

“Eh-hem.”  Thomas cleared his throat, gesturing to Alexander’s bowl.  “A little thanks is in order.”

“You’re a dick.”  Alexander said instead, but Thomas took no offense to it.

“Never said I wasn’t.”  Thomas said after taking a bite, dabbing gently at his mouth with his napkin and reminding Alexander that this man still grew up rather wealthy, despite his newfound status.

At this train of thought Alexander tapped his fingers against the table, taking a slow bite of his grilled cheese and realizing how hungry he was.  He ate with more vigour, but found his eyes glancing back to Thomas, clear inquiry in his gaze.

Thomas avoided his eyes, and that made Alexander narrow his own.

Alexander put his nearly finished sandwich down, looking to the side where another painting hung.  This one of a red barn and wheat fields, with two distinct figures running amongst the plant. When he turned his gaze back he noticed Thomas had been staring at the same spot, and he chewed his cheek.

Alright then.

“I’m curious.”  Alexander said, and Thomas couldn’t hide the stiffening of his shoulders.

“Yeah?”  Thomas asked, and he kept his eyes on his spoon swirling in his soup.

“It’s,” Alexander paused, licked at his lips, looked back to the painting, “I don’t know what to think.  I’m confused.” Alexander chose to go with, and Thomas shot him a tentative glance.

“What’s to think?”  Thomas returned, and Alexander shrugged, casual as he could make it, but it did little to ease Thomas.

“I don’t know.  It’s strange. I’m in your apartment - you’re normal, you had a _date_ last night.  What are you doing here?”  He didn’t bother tacking on _with me_ , because that wasn’t the intended question, wasn’t the point.  What was Thomas doing _here_ , in New York.

Thomas sighed deeply, his hands fidgeting, and Alexander watched them dig into the table.  “It’s… hard to answer, Alexander.” Thomas voice was neutral, but an undercurrent of pain captured his attention.

“But what about you and Lafayette -”

“- that’s not -”

“- you stiffen up at the mention of his name -”

“- that’s none of your -”

“- but what _happened_ -”

“Alexander.”  Thomas cut through, and his eyes silenced Alexander better than any words could.  “Please.” Thomas’ voice was soft, small.

Alexander looked to the table, a soft sigh through his nose.  “Bad date last night?” He asked, instead of what he desperately wanted to push.  Change of subject.

“She was,” Thomas shrugged, but he appeared grateful for something else to talk about, “disappointed.  I wasn’t who she thought I was.”

Alexander hummed.  “Who did she think you were?”  He asked.

“Rich, I guess.”  Thomas said, but his voice lacked any inflection, a bare hint of venom and Alexander shifted where he sat.

“Why would she -”

“Jefferson.  Last name of a powerful family, many sons whom they have photos of _online_ , connect the dots.”  Thomas said, tone cold, and Alexander swallowed.

He regretted his curiosity, but the twinge of relief at how the date ended last night soothed him.  “Oh.” He breathed, and Thomas bore silent eyes at him. Alexander closed his own against their tide, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms with a shrug.  “Well, she’s a bitch then.”

Thomas snorted, and though the sound was far from humorous, it wasn’t as dull as before.  “You can say that again.”

“She’s a bitch then.”  Alexander parroted, and Thomas broke out in a tenuous grin.

“Cheeky.”  Thomas shot back.

-

Later, as they were seated on the couch and watching some triple feature horror movie run, Alexander pondered.  He passed quiet glances around the home, and from what he saw - as lived in as it was. It was still - terribly empty.

No photos of family or friends, nothing but paintings of farmland and victorian market towns.  There was another room, from what Alexander saw, and he wondered what was in it. Last he was here Thomas claimed there wasn’t another room, but the layout of the home suggested it was, indeed, a room.

The apartment had no warmth to it, he realized.  It was all perfunctory, like Thomas’ ponytail.

That puzzled Alexander.

Had Thomas no one else to talk to?  There were nothing to be found here, and Thomas seemed like he spent most of his time not working, at home, with his cat.  He certainly had to have someone else sans Alexander to consort with. Except he didn’t - not once had Alexander seen Thomas text anyone else while he was with him, no mention of other names.

Was Thomas lonely?

Alexander figured with a swallow he was.  He invited Alexander to hang out on his day off, and going with how absorbed the Virginian was with the movies - he was in desperate need for a distraction.  And Alexander could roll with that.

If Thomas was willing to turn to him for a break, then yeah - that was fine by Alexander.

-

The moon was high in the sky, when their movie night officially ended.  There was no dinner had, a plethora of popcorn and ice cream that Alexander snickered at Thomas for owning.   _Healthy_ \- yeah, right.  

The night was enjoyable, and was spent considerably amicable, despite the conversation at lunch time.  The horror movies just kept getting worse, and Alexander found with a grin that Thomas could be incredibly witty with his commentary.  All said in a slow, bored drawl that made the plot contrivances all the better upon being pointed out.

“You spending the night?”  Thomas said, turning to look down at him when the last Saw’s credits began rolling.

Alexander was splayed across the couch, legs over the side of his couch and head near Thomas’ thighs.  He shrugged what little he could in his position. “If you don’t mind, it’s pretty late.”

Thomas checked his phone, eyes widening.  “Shit, it is. I have to wake up in six.” Thomas said, a hand tangling in his curls.

“Do you work six days a week?”  Alexander asked, looking up at Thomas.

“Usually.  Nadine’s not too keen on hiring any other workers.  She was a hardass just hiring me.” Thomas supplied, typing away at his phone.  Thomas stood then, stretching out and Alexander traced the strong lines of his body in the darkness, barely lit by the TV screen.  “Let me grab you some pajamas.”

“Okay.”  Alexander said, watching him walk off and letting his gaze linger where the man once was.

Thomas returned a few minutes later, the same pair of striped pajamas and Alexander snorted.

“They look so _southern_.”  Alexander said, sitting up and head spinning with the rush of blood.  He took the clothes from Thomas, plucking at the shirts sleeves and grimacing at it.

“Actually, _plaid_ would be more southern.  These are just the cheapest shit I could find at walmart.”  Thomas said, smirking down at Alexander.

“Point taken.”  Alexander said, standing and almost flinching at the close proximity of Thomas.  The man hadn’t backed off, and they were now inches from each other. “Uh -”

Thomas hand clapped down on his shoulder, firm and warm and big, and Alexander stared at it.  

“Thank you, for - for hanging out with me today.  I needed it.” Thomas said, and he sounded so genuine and _thankful_ \- and Alexander found his eyes stuck on the taller man’s mouth - and he wanted - and were they leaning in - and Alexander jerked back, heart hammering.

He still had no clue why Lafayette held such contempt for the Virginian.

He still had no clue why Thomas was even _here_.

Thomas looked noticeably taken back, hand hovering in the air for a second before returning to his side.

“No problem, man.”  Alexander rushed out in the tight silence, and he rubbed at the spot Thomas’ hand just was.  “Any time.” He muttered, and he could feel how hot his face was.

“Yeah, uh -” Thomas paused, backed off and made his way to the doorway, “night.”

“Night.”  Alexander called back, and then felt like smashing his face against the nearest flat surface.

-

  * (11:43 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** so u panicked like a lil bitch
  * (11:43 p.m.) **alexham:** no
  * (11:43 p.m.) **alexham:** maybe
  * (11:43 p.m.) **alexham:** yes i did
  * (11:44 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** omg u baby he wasnt even doin anythin
  * (11:45 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** what r u, like, in deep, or sumthin?
  * (11:45 p.m.) **alexham:** thats not important right now!
  * (11:45 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** okay then what -is- bc thats leading u to text me on my WORK NIGHT
  * (11:46 p.m.) **alexham:** i think we should get laf and thomas to talk



There was a few minutes of no responses, and Alexander wondered if John was so heavily against the idea.

  * (11:51 p.m.) **alexham:** john?
  * (11:51 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** t h o m a s
  * (11:51 p.m.) **alexham:** yeah, him, i think we need to get them to talk to each other
  * (11:52 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** t
  * (11:52 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** h
  * (11:52 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** o
  * (11:52 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** m
  * (11:53 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** a
  * (11:53 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** s
  * (11:53 p.m.) **alexham:** holy shit im going to kill you -what is it-
  * (11:54 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** ur using his first name
  * (11:55 p.m.) **alexham:** oh
  * (11:55 p.m.) **alexham:** i am, yeah



Alexander knew already it was weird, but it would be weirder to keep calling Thomas _Jefferson_ when the man’s been using his first name.  He shook his head, staring off into the darkness of Thomas’ apartment and tracing the black shapes of furniture and other things in the room.

His phone buzzed.

  * (11:58 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** so level with me, why do u think they should talk?
  * (11:58 p.m.) **alexham:** its something that obviously hurt them both, and i dont know, with laf moving in three weeks it might be cathartic for them?
  * (11:59 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** that makes some sense, but im not sure bro
  * (12:00 a.m.) **alexham:** just trust me yeah



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex u fool u were gon get smooched why did u freak


	8. Gil?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is short but i hope yall like it cause it maaay or maaaay not hint pretty hard core at tommy bois past

_ But he didn’t understand what closing the door meant. _

_ And what closing the door did. _

“ _ Viens encore? _ ”  Lafayette said, turning wide eyes to Alexander.

Alexander leaned against the marble countertop of the frenchman’s kitchen.  “I said, do you want to hang out?”

Lafayette leaned over, pressing a palm to Alexander’s forehead.  Alexander let him, staring at him with lidded eyes as the man pulled back and squinted eyes at him.  “Are you ill?” Lafayette asked.

Alexander felt only slightly snubbed.  “Wow, I try to hang out with you and this is the love I get?”

To this, Lafayette laughed.  “Ah,  _ mon ami _ , forgive my suspicions.”  Lafayette leaned onto the counter as well, levelling his gaze with Alexander’s with a kind smile.  “What shall you have us do?”

“I don’t know, go out - get some coffee, stroll one of your fancy malls.”  Alexander said with a shrug. It would be genuinely nice to hang out with his friend - it’d been nearly a week since he talked to John about getting Thomas and Lafayette talking, and it passed mostly in a blur as he waited for his and Lafayette’s schedules to match up.

He’d done two speeches at the nearby community colleges - finished his most recent article, and spent his mornings at Le Café Crème.  Thomas was a little lighter around him, but there was an obvious edge of uncertainty that Alexander couldn’t help but feel he caused. However - the real issue remained.

Lafayette and Mulligan would be leaving in two weeks.

And Alexander needed enough time to get Lafayette and Thomas communicating.

“Oh, we should have  _ mon coeur _ and Laurens join us!”  Lafayette said, clapping his hands together and standing up from the marble top.

Alexander smiled at his friend's enthusiasm, and stared down at the black and white splotches of the counter.  “Nah, I thought it could be just us.” He said with a shrug.

Lafayette turned to cock an eye at him, a playful grin on his face.

“Oh,  _ mon petite lion _ , are you trying to get me alone?”  Lafayette asked, expression sly.

Alexander levelled his extravagant friend a stare.  “Yes, Lafayette, I've been dying to get you alone, because we all know my ass is what you're after.”

“Hoh,” Lafayette breathed, nose turning up and he went to walk around the counter and gather his things, “and pray tell,  _ mon petite ami _ , am I after?”

Alexander shrugged and leaned away from the counter.  “Oh, I don't know - a certain fashion designer?”

Lafayette let out a dramatic gasp, a hand pressed to his chest.  “ _ Mon Dieu _ , you lack finesse!”  But his words were light and cheeks aflame, and Alexander laughed at his antics.

“ _ I _ lack finesse?  What with you going,” it was Alexander's turn to get flamboyant, grasping his chest and fluttering his eyelashes, “ _ mon coeur  _ this and  _ mon coeur _ that!  My god,” Alexander put a palm to his face, “how did we not notice sooner?”  He muttered.

Lafayette laughed with a blush, waving a hand about.  “Ah,  _ mon ami _ , I didn't know myself until very recently.”  And his friend's face took on a softer note, eyes glazing with memories and Alexander leaned into his space, trying to catch the frenchman's gaze.

“Oh?”  Alexander inquired.

Lafayette waved him off.  “Enough of this topic, we are to spend a day?   _ Le jour est jeune _ _ , _ let us have fun,  _ oui _ ?”

Alexander grinned up at Lafayette, shrugging into his thick winter coat and heading to do the door.  “Fuck yeah, mall first?”

Butter him up, before he tried anything, Alexander figured would be his best course of action.  And there was nothing Lafayette loved more than shopping. 

As long as they got there before three, it'd be good.  And besides that, it had been sometime since just the two of them hung out.

-

“I will never wear this in public,  _ ever _ .”  Alexander said, staring at the frilly monstrosity of a button up Lafayette got him in to.  The colour was worse - a salmon pink with white lace, and yet despite the obvious horror displayed on Alexander’s face, the frenchman gleamed madly.

“Nonsense -  _ c'est magnifique _ !”  Lafayette declared, patting two hands down on Alexander’s shoulders and staring over him and into his mirror reflection.  Alexander grimaced.

“Maybe for you, Laf,” Alexander said, shrugging out of the shirt without shame.  He slid into his grey sweater comfortably, ignoring the frown and crossed arms of his friend.  “I, on the other hand, and  _ much _ more into these.”  He said, pulling at the collar of his sweatshirt.

Lafayette grumbled, turning to grab at another item that he brought for Alexander to try on.  Since their styles differed greatly, Alexander was mostly indulging the frenchman, as soon he wouldn’t be able too.  And without John, who else was Lafayette going to force to wear his flamboyant fashion sense?

The imagery of Mulligan in them only had Alexander shuddering.

“How about this one?”  Lafayette offered forth a simple green button up, and with closer inspection revealed fancy patterns and swirls in an almost effervescent shine.  “ _ S'il vous plaît _ , Alex, I must get you  _ something _ while we’re out.”

Alexander held it up, and with one glance at Lafayette sighed.  “Fine, I’ll get this.” It was a far sight better than everything else the man had chosen.

Lafayette’s face broke out into a large grin and they spent another few minutes perusing the store - mostly at Lafayette’s insistence.

“Anything else catch your eye,  _ mon ami _ ?  I’ll bestow you two  _ parfait _ gifts today!”  Lafayette asked, beaming down at Alexander and he lazily looked about.  Nothing here fancied him - even the shirt was barely touching his standards of dress, really.

Until his eyes caught on something purple.

He blinked, walking towards the embroidered jacket and instantly feeling nostalgic.  The thing was expensive, fancy, and  _ reeked _ of Thomas’ old style - or when the southerner still had money, in all actuality.  With white decor along the collar and sleeve endings, Alexander felt a sneaky grin.

“ _ This _ is what you’re interested in?”  Lafayette asked, suddenly right by Alexander and he jolted, looking up at the frenchman’s disbelieving face.

Alexander shrugged.  “It’s…” He struggled to find the right words - because it wasn’t anything he’d be caught dead in.  And he meant that quite literally. But this was certainly something Thomas would adore, and Alexander didn’t feel exactly like explaining the urge to gift the man  _ anything _ to Lafayette of all people.

He just wanted to give Thomas something that wasn’t solely perfunctory - the only thing he seemed capable of, these days.

“It’s -  _ nice _ .”  Alexander finally managed.

“ _ Nice _ .”  Lafayette parroted, and shot him a look that suggested he saw through Alexander’s bullshit, and the frenchman tugged at one of the sleeves with mild distaste.  “It is a few sizes too large for you, I’m afraid.” Lafayette said lightly.

There was a strange tension to his friend’s shoulders.

Alexander hooked a thumb in his pants, looking over the extravagant coat.  “I’ll grow into it.” He said, a poor attempt at humour in light of Lafayette’s dispassionate expression.

“You’re twenty six,  _ mon petite ami _ ,” Lafayette deadpanned, emphasis on  _ petite _ .  “I fear growing is no longer in your future.”

Alexander swallowed, grabbing the item off the rack anyway, and standing up as tall as he could - which compared to Lafayette’s height, wasn’t much.  To hell with tall people, anyhow.

Squaring his gaze with Lafayette’s, “you said you’d buy me two things today.”  Alexander said, holding the large coat close. “And this is what I want.”

Lafayette rubbed a hand at his brow and sighed.  “ _ Oui _ , but this item reeks of…  _ collant _ fashion choices.”

“Really?  Looks like something you’d wear.”  Alexander shot back and his friend finally gave him a albeit weary, small smile.

“I’d never be caught dead in  _ purple _ , Alex.”  Lafayette returned.  “It would be a fashion travesty.”

They bought the jacket.

-

“Mind if I drive?”  Alexander asked, and Lafayette looked over the car with a quirked brow.

“Hoh?”

“Ya know, since you’re always driving.  And with you leaving…” Alexander shrugged.

Lafayette gave him a small smile, tossing the keys over.  “Sure,  _ mon petit ami _ .”

-

“What are we doing here?”  Lafayette asked from the passengers, and judging by the man’s tone he was regretting allowing Alexander to drive them back.

Alexander shot his friend a sheepish grin, fingers nervously clenching into the steering wheel.  “I wanted some coffee before I got back home.” Alexander supplied.

Lafayette’s jaw clenched.  “Don’t you have a  _ cafetière _ at your apartment?”

“John drank it all.”  Alexander said, and he kept his gaze locked on the front of the cafe.

Lafayette’s face was a careful mask, and his eyes were ice cold when they turned to catch Alexander’s.  “ _ Mon petite lion _ ,” the frenchman began, tone rigid, “is this not where that  _ tricheur couché _ works?”

Alexander swallowed, and shrugged.  “Maybe. But they have good -”

“ _ Non non non  _ \- I will rather eat  _ merde de porc _ than see his face.”

“Lafayette -”

“Alexander, out of the drivers.  Now.” Lafayette damn near ordered, and his tone suggested he wasn’t to be trifled with.

Alexander wasn’t a man to back down, however.  “Laf,” he paused, took a breath, “whatever happened between you two - he’s different now.  He’s -  _ nice _ .”  Alexander said, waving a hand and gesturing to the cafe.  “He works at a  _ cafe _ , the old Thomas would never -”

Lafayette cut through his words with a harsh bark of laughter, and his tone was rueful as he spoke, “you speak of the  _ old _ Thomas as if you knew him.”

“I knew him enough.”  Alexander tried, but Lafayette chuckled darkly.

“You did not  _ know _ him,  _ petite sotte _ .  You did not  _ know _ the betrayal - the heartache, that  _ Enfoiré _ gave me.  We _ all  _ knew them - yet he betrayed us all.  He is a liar, Alexander, and you are a fool to trust him now.”  Lafayette all but spat, and he practically launched out of the car, passengers door slamming shut and before Alexander could process what was happening his own door was being thrown open.

“Gilbert,” Alexander began desperately, but Lafayette had none of it.

“Out of my car.”

Alexander got out, his purchased goods thrust into his arms and Lafayette made to get into the drivers seat.  Alexander stood in his way, defiant, and held the bags close to his a chest, a metaphorical shield between him and his pissed friend.

“Lafayette, you’re right - I  _ don’t know _ what happened.  I might never, at this fucking rate.  But I still want to  _ help _ -”

“Did you invite me out with the pretense to come here?”  Lafayette cut him off, tone quiet and accusative.

Alexander blinked, stupefied a moment.  “Of course not.” Alexander finally answered, but it wasn’t the whole truth.  That had been originally why he sought to do so, after all. But they were still friends, and he enjoyed hanging out with him nonetheless.

“You are a terrible liar.”  Lafayette said, and he met Alexander’s gaze - and Alexander’s blood ran cold, then.  Because Lafayette’s eyes lifted above his own, and the frozen shock that spilled into the frenchman’s face was enough for Alexander to know who he saw.

Alexander turned, trepidation a laden weight in his gut, and near winced when his eyes landed on Thomas looking right at them.  The man was in his usual work attire, hair tied back, and in the midst of stacking chairs to be tucked away inside safely. A broom balanced in one hands grip.

Alexander brought a hand up, a small wave, but recognized Thomas wasn’t seeing much of anything, right now.  His eyes locked on Lafayette’s and Alexander shot worried glances between them. What seemed like minutes passed of no words, and Alexander thought shrinking into the ground would be an excellent plan right about now.

“Thomas, were you here the whole time?”  Alexander asked once the tense silence became too much, careful as he took a step toward the southerner.  

Thomas snapped to then, rapid blinking as he stumbled back and knocked down the display sign that always showed the cafes specials.  His broom dropped, and Thomas was struggling to say anything, it seemed, mouth opening and closing.

“Thomas -”  Alexander went to say again.

“Gil?”  Thomas finally said, soft and scared and a little disbelieving.

Alexander looked to Lafayette, and he was taken aback at the raw fury marring his friend’s usually cheerful features.

“You…   _ Vous abruti absolu _ !”  Lafayette spat out, body trembling and Alexander was shoved aside when his friend stormed forth.  Alexander watched in mild horror Lafayette grab Thomas by the collar of his shirt, the frenchman shoving Thomas against the glass walls with a loud  _ thud _ that had Alexander shirking back.

“Guys -” Alexander rushed forward, grabbing at Lafayette’s shoulder and being jostled back.

“ _ Va te faire foutre _ !  You’ve no _ right _ to call me ‘Gil’.  _  Aucun droit _ !”  Lafayette near yelled, shaking Thomas and Alexander was damn near dumbfounded.  He’d never seen his friend so upset, and it shook him, had him with two left feet in a foreign country with nary a map in sight and he didn’t know it’d end this badly if he tried anything.

“Lafayette,” Thomas wheezed out, a hand coming up to wrap around one of Lafayette’s wrists, “please -”

“ _ Non _ , I will have none of your words,  _ cul _ .”  Lafayette bit out.

“- if you just listen to me -”

“- oh, listen to  _ you _ -”

“- I didn’t mean to -”

“- but you still  _ did _ -”

“- I never wanted -”

“-  _ fuck you _ -”

“-  _ Gil _ -”

Lafayette punched Thomas.

Alexander blinked, not quite processing what had happened.

Thomas was forced back into the glass with a loud crack, a hurt sound tumbling from the man and Alexander - still wasn’t sure what he was witnessing.

“What -”  Alexander began, not aware he was speaking as he stared blindsided at the situation.

Lafayette threw another blow - which resonated with a sickening  _ crunch _ , the Virginian’s head snapping into the glass again and spreading a web of intricate cracks throughout its surface this time.  

Alexander watched, horrified, as Thomas just  _ let _ it happen - which was a far more frightening sight than Alexander thought possible - and he found the nerve to step in.

“Guys!”  He yelled out, shoving between them and planting a firm hand on both men’s chests, pushing Lafayette back and shooting worried glances between them.  “Seriously, calm the fuck down.” Alexander said, tone hoarse due to the vat of uncomfortable emotions bubbling in him. This went wrong - very wrong, and he couldn’t help but find himself the key source of it.

Lafayette let out a harsh scoff, stepping back from Alexander’s hand and straightening his coat and hair, avoiding looking at either Alexander or Thomas.  The frenchman corrected the cuffs of his jacket, and finally deigned to send an icy glare Alexander’s way.

“Lafayette.”  Alexander said, pleading and he wasn’t sure what for, but he was positive his friend knew.  It was only then, as they held gaze, that he noticed the red rimming Lafayette’s eyes, the tremble of his chin and he guiltily dropped his gaze to the floor.  “I’m…”

Lafayette cut him off, “ _ don’t  _ \- don’t say anything.  You don’t get to.” His tone was hurt, thick with emotion as he stepped into his car.

Alexander kept his mouth shut, looking to the floor because that was the safer option.  He heard more than saw Lafayette drive off, and everything was silent, for a moment. He stared hard at the concrete of the ground, and his eyes landed the broom Thomas had dropped earlier.  He knelt down, fingers trembling minutely as he wrapped them around the wooden tool.

He stood, turning to face Thomas and offering the broom out.  Except the Virginian was still in that defeated slump against the glass walls of the cafes storefront.  Behind the Virginian’s curls Alexander could see thin cracks webbing from the point Thomas had hit it. “Thomas -”

“Don’t you ever bring him here again.”  Thomas choked out, and his tone was heavy - blood trickled from his busted lip, the scarlet shocking against his dark skin.

Alexander bit his lip.  “I didn’t - it, he -” he couldn’t find the right string of words, looking everywhere but Thomas.  It was too dangerous to look at him just yet. “I wanted you two to talk.” He managed to say, barely above a whisper.

“That wasn’t your place.”  Thomas said. He wasn’t wrong.

Alexander grasped at straws.  “ _ Something _ happened - and I’ve got no fucking clue about it, and I was hoping talking would solve, I don’t know -  _ something _ .”

Thomas stood finally, and squared his gaze with Alexander.  The shorter man had to crane his neck to meet Thomas’ eyes, and he resisted the urge to back up as the Virginian practically towered over him.  Using everything he had to keep gaze with Thomas and not stare at the bruised cheek and lip that trailed blood down his chin, the crooked nose that didn’t help the mess any.

“No,” Thomas bit out, hoarse and quiet like it hurt to speak, “you didn’t get to decide that.  We can’t just -” And Thomas broke off then, and Alexander realized with a jolt the man was crying.  Tears sliding over bruised skin and Alexander watched them trail, transfixed.

Alexander raised a hand, tentative, and held it just above Thomas’ face, fingers just dancing the surface.  “You’re bleeding,” he began, guilty and soft. 

The southerner jerked back from Alexander’s hand, looking to the side and covering his own mouth, blood trickling between his fingers.  “I can’t _ fix it _ , Alexander.  No one can.” Thomas muttered out, and Alexander wanted desperately to know what had transpired between them.

Alexander swallowed, holding his hand close and looking to the ground, “Thomas, if someone just  _ tells me _ what happened -”

“ _ Nothing happened _ .”  Thomas interjected, quiet and harsh, and Alexander almost snorted if not for the mood being as tenuous as it was.

“Bullshit - you’re, you’re fucking  _ crying _ and bleeding and fucking - Lafayette  _ punched _ you  _ twice _ .”  Alexander countered, almost frantic with his words and glaring up into Thomas’ eyes.

Thomas met his stare and leaned down, well into Alexander’s space and forcing the shorter man to lean back.  “And whose fucking fault do ya’ think that is?” Thomas grit out, anger thick in his accent, breath hot across Alexander’s lips.

Alexander shifted his gaze to the swell of Thomas’ cheek, to the tears trailing his face, to the ugly snarl formed on the Virginian’s mouth that was stained red.  “I don’t, it wasn’t - I didn’t want it to happen this way.” Alexander said, and his voice was pitiful to his own ears.

“Yeah?  Well it did.”  Thomas said, tone harsh.  “What did you think was going to happen?  That he was just going to - just going to  _ welcome _ me back with open arms?  Run off into the sunset?” Thomas pushed on, venom dripping from his words and Alexander shrinked in on himself.

“I just -”  Alexander tried to say, throat closing over any words he formed, and Thomas stared at him with cold heat.

“Just what?  Wanted to make it all better?  Because ya’  _ didn’t _ .”  Thomas seethed, and Alexander flinched.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and felt a little like crying himself, but he didn’t want to do that just yet.  That meant conceding defeat - there was always a strategy to win any war. Right? He hadn’t burned the bridge yet. Or at least this was what he told himself, fists clenched at his side and eyes resolutely not meeting Thomas’.

Thomas said nothing to Alexander’s silence, finally stepping back from the shorter man and leaning heavily against the glass wall of the buildings facade.  Thomas buried his face in his hands, a hoarse sound spilling from him and Alexander hesitated for a moment before nodding to himself.

He marched past Thomas and into the cafe, going to the kitchen where he recalled seeing the first aid kit.  Guilt was an iron weighing him down, and he headed back to the front, pausing in the cafe’s interior. Everything was pristine and set away proper, lights dimmed to discourage any people from entering while Thomas closed.

He could see Thomas through the window, the man still hadn’t moved - and the cracks that fractured out from behind the man’s head in the glass had Alexander near shaking.  Fuck - what happened between him and Lafayette?

He’d never seen his friend so angry - wrathful, for better word - and the dichrometry of the frenchman’s hurt voice made his head swim just thinking on it.

He shook his head - he had something to do, and looking to the first aid kit in his hand, he figured this would be a start.

Stepping outside he stopped just short of Thomas, staring at the sorry sight he made.  One short breath and he stepped up to the man, clenching the small red box and clearing his throat.  If Thomas noticed him, he did nothing, face hidden and shoulders trembling with harsh breaths.

A impregnable pause.  “Thomas, I want to help.”  Alexander said, reaching out to tap against Thomas’ shoulder but thinking better of it, hand awkwardly held out.

“Fuck off, Hamilton.”

_ Hamilton _ .

Ice spiked Alexander’s chest, and he looked to his feet, free hand grabbing at his arm and digging his fingers into the fabric of his sleeves.  Right then.

It hurt like a bitch, and Alexander was on the verge of perhaps giving up.  But he was Alexander Hamilton - and he was tenacious, if anything. So he stayed where he was, planted in front Thomas and finding new shapes and patterns in the concrete flooring and doing his best to ignore the soft sounds the man made as he cried.

Minutes passed in silence disrupted by Thomas, and when Alexander’s eyes caught on the faint blood drops on the ground - he decided fuck it.  He clenched his jaw, and without fear he grabbed Thomas by his nearest arm, ignoring the man’s protest as he dragged him inside. 

He slammed the cafe’s doors behind them, forcing Thomas into the kitchen and setting him down on the chairs that were there presumably for when they took breaks.

“Hamilton -”  Thomas began, looking up at Alexander with tired angry eyes.

Alexander wasn’t having it.  “ _ Alexander _ ,” he hissed out, and Thomas turned his gaze to the ground.  “Look at me, you asshole.” Alexander bit out, opening the kit and pulling out a cotton swab.

When Thomas petulantly did  _ not _ look at him, Alexander gripped him by the chin and none too gently prodded at the split in his lip.

“Hamil-”

Alexander shot Thomas a nasty glare.

“Alexander.”  Thomas said, instead, and Alexander for his part softened the way he cleaned up Thomas’ cuts.

“Your lip looks nasty, and it looks like your nose is a lost cause,” Alexander said, not responding to the inquiry in Thomas’ tone, “but the swelling on your cheek should go down in a week or so.  I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.” Alexander muttered, holding up an ice pack wrapped in thin cloth for Thomas to press against his swelling.

Thomas sighed, holding the chilled pack against his face and looked to his feet, Alexander watching from where he was leaned close.

“I’m -” Thomas said, cutting off to sigh roughly and the man rubbed at his chest absently.

“I think he broke your nose.  I can lyft us,” Alexander paused, “or just you, or whatever, to the hospital if you want it checked out.”  Alexander finished with a shrug that tried for noncommittal. Alexander finished cleaning the wound on his lip, and moved to pull away when Thomas stopped him with a hand to his wrist.

Alexander passed Thomas a curious glance, heat flickering at the shared touch but trampled by the tenuous air.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.”  Thomas said after a moment of shared eye contact, and Alexander blinked.  Well he certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“What?”  Alexander managed to say, genuinely shocked that Thomas was the one apologizing.

“You - you were only trying to help,” Thomas said, releasing Alexander’s wrist and threading a hand through his curls, “and it was fucking stupid, yeah - but.  I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t just,” Thomas made a rough sound, as if he was annoyed with himself, and tugged Alexander into what contended to be the world's most awkward one armed hug.

Alexander fell forward, heart stopping and mind blanking as Thomas wrapped his hand not currently pressing an ice pack to his face around his back to pull him into the odd embrace.  His knees were bent uncomfortably from where he was standing by the chair, and his lungs had a hard time functioning but - like hell he’d pull away. Not when he could feel the warm length of Thomas close.

But still.

He pat one hand on the man’s back, unsure of the boundaries, and let out a nervous chuckle, “uh, yeah - no problem.  I really should be the one apologizing, though.” Alexander stammered out, face warm and he was glad his features was obscured from Thomas’ sight.

“Well we both coulda’ handled it better. Nadine’s gonna’ kill me about the window.”  Thomas said, and Alexander made a short noise of agreement.

It was silent for a moment, and Alexander was busying himself with relishing the feel of Thomas against him - the firm strength in his arm and hand, when Thomas broke the silence.

“It was years ago,” Thomas said, and Alexander heart jumped with a sudden leap of hope, “years ago and they’re _ gone  _ and I fucked up - and I can’t just  _ fix _ it with a talk.  You can’t just undo time.”

Alexander steadied himself with a shaky breath, diminishing any eagerness in his tone and turned his head just so into Thomas’ hair, asking softly, “what did you do?”  Who was the them he mention? Lafayette mentioned them earlier, and it only made Alexander ever more curious.

“Nothing.  I did  _ nothing _ , when I should have done something.  We both… we both knew them.” Thomas swallowed harshly, tone thick with emotion, “he was right.  I am a liar - a cheat, and you shouldn’t trust me.”

“We all knew that already.”  Alexander mumbled, tracing patterns in the curls of Thomas’ hair with his eyes.  He avoided really thinking on the latter half of Thomas’ words. He was too busy being enamoured with what was happening now - how soft the Virginian’s hair was.  “It’s part of your charm.”

Thomas chuckled hoarsely, and that was a good thing, Alexander thought with a sigh of relief.  Even better, to feel the rumbles of the man’s chest against his own when he made it. 

“Yeah?  I feel like my southern charm is fucking up a lot, lately.”  Thomas’ hand tightened its grip on Alexander’s back, leaving Alexander’s heart short circuiting as he clambered back into the conversation.  He gave Thomas’ back a small pat, circling his hand.

“Was… was what happened between you two - is that why you’re working here?”  Alexander asked, careful, and Thomas breathed, Alexander shivering when he felt it brush across his cheek.  When had Thomas turned to face him?

“No.  What happened between us… working here is a symptom.”  Thomas said, and Alexander felt bad for the quiet elation that thrilled under his skin at finally learning  _ something _ .

“Then what -”

“I can’t.  Not right now.”  Thomas said. But he didn’t say  _ never _ , and that made Alexander feel at least a little bit hopeful.

“When?”

Thomas pulled back, to which Alexander felt immense disappointment, and looked at him, eyes tired and red but clearer.  “If you pull shit like that again,” Thomas said, alluding to earlier, “then never.” 

Alexander nodded to that, but he couldn’t help the small smile that slipped on his face, because Thomas hand was still warm on his back.  “So, does that mean we’re still friends?” He asked, pulling his hand away to rest gently on Thomas’ shoulder.

Thomas snorted, his hand falling away to push some stray curls out of his eyes.  He offered Alexander a small smile, to which Alexander cheekily returned, and Thomas gave him a light punch to the shoulder.

“Yes, you little shit.”  Thomas said, his tone still thick with pain but lighter as he talked.  “But if you try that again, I will spit in your drinks.”

“You telling me spit  _ hasn’t _ been your special ingredient?”  Alexander asked, incredulous expression as he pulled back and began uselessly correcting his shirt.

Thomas looked at him with a quirked brow, and Alexander’s heart skipped at the sight he made.  “You tellin’ me you’ve been drinking my coffee thinking that?” He drawled humorously.

“I suspected there was some poisoning.”  Alexander said with a shrug, and Thomas chuckled.

“Seriously, though - you try that again, I  _ will _ kick your ass.”

“Roger that.”

A beat of companionable silence.

“Do you want to go to the hospital, though?  Because I’m pretty sure your nose is broken.”

Thomas laughed.  “Do I look like I got insurance?  I’ll be fine.”

Alexander chuckled, “alright - enjoy your crooked nose.”

“I will.”

“Cool.”

“Awesome.”

“Great.”

Thomas cocked him a look, “stupendous,” he drawled in a dry tone, and Alexander laughed.

Looking Thomas square in the eyes Alexander gave a casual shrug, “magnificent.”

“You little  _ shit _ .”  Thomas muttered, and Alexander answered him by putting away the first aid.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gilbert is (tm) pEEVED
> 
> also personal apology to all the french speakers out there reading this
> 
> google translate can only do so well >V>;;;;;


	9. Mishaps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so sorry I disappeared!!! Some seriously hardcore family stuff happened and welp... had no time to edit the chapters I had. This halter though killed me to get out I will admit, couldn’t decide what I wanted to happen but I’m pleased with what I managed. Hope you guys enjoy!

_ Years flew and he wondered about the door. _

_ But then he was simply too scared to open it. _

  * (6:24 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** hey uh alex quick question



Alexander looked at his phone from where he was on Thomas’ couch, the Virginian in the kitchen prepping dinner - he had offered to cook instead, despite his lack of culinary talent, but was denied - and leaving Alexander to contend with himself in the living room with Marmie.  

He had been invited over after the chaos for dinner, Alexander having been shocked the offer was tossed, but figured perchance Thomas didn’t want to be alone just yet.  He had the bags Lafayette gave him carefully tucked away by the door, contents hidden from view.

Now wouldn’t be the best time to give Thomas the gift, and Alexander couldn’t quite look at them without a pit forming in his stomach.

So he distracted himself with work, laptop out, legs criss crossed under him as he paused his writings to grab at his phone.

  * (6:25 p.m.) **alexham:** yeah?



Alexander had a suspicion what his friend was on about.

  * (6:25 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** uve any clue why herc texted me saying lAFAYETTES CRYING AND HIS KNUCKLES ARE SWOLLEN


  * (6:27 p.m.) **alexham:**...would you believe me if i said i didnt know


  * (6:27 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** oh sure maybe if u were -h e r e- in ur -a p a r t m e n t-


  * (6:28 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** ur at jeffershits arent u



Alexander sniffed, rubbing at his nose and looking away from the chat for a moment.

  * (6:28 p.m.) **alexham:** okay but to be fair laf left me at the cafe


  * (6:29 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** u took


  * (6:29 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** lafayette


  * (6:29 p.m.) **thebestjohn:** -to the cafe-



Alexander winced.

  * (6:30 p.m.) **alexham:** maybe?



Within seconds his phone rang, John’s face appearing in the small bubble that displayed the contact info and he sighed wistfully as he answered.

“Now, John -” Was all he could get out before his friend reamed him.

“ _ You fucking idiot, holy  _ shit _ , did you really think that was going to work  _ -”

“- let’s not get ahead of ourselves -”

“-  _ oh, were  _ way  _ ahead of ourselves now, you fucking  _ -”

“- it’s not like I knew Lafayette would _ punch  _ him -”

“- so  _ Laf  _ did  _ punch Jeffershit! _ ”

Alexander sighed, pinching his brow and muttering under his breath.  “Look - good news is, I learned a bit more about what happened.”

There was a snort from the other end, “ _ oh,  _ goodie _ \- we know  _ more _ about the new resident drama queen fight _ .”

“John…”

“ _ Okay, fine, I’ll bite - what did you learn _ ?”

“Thomas did nothing, or whatever, years ago, when he should have done ‘something’, as he put it, that really pissed Lafayette off.  There’s also others involved, but they’re gone now. Dead, maybe?” Alexander paraphrased, voice lowered so the man in the kitchen wouldn’t catch on to what he was talking about.

There was radio silence on the other end.

“John?”  Alexander asked.

“ _ You  _ literally _ learned nothing. _ ”  John said, and his tone was dripping disapproval.

Alexander sat up, clenching onto the phone defensively.  “No - I did  _ not _ learn _ nothing _ , that was vital information!”  Alexander hissed out.

“ _ Oh my  _ god _ , Alexander, yeah he mentioned others - but he fucking said he did nothing!  That - is learning -  _ nothing! _  Why are you even hung up on this _ ?”  John griped, and he sounded so annoyed and off put that Alexander couldn’t help but curl closer in on himself where he sat.

“ _ Because _ , John, Lafayette and Thomas are my friends -”

A scoff from the other line.

“They’re my  _ friends _ , and I want to help them.”  Alexander trucked on, glaring at the phone.

“ _ Wow, didn’t know you and Jeffershit were so buddy-buddy. _ ”

Alexander pinched his brow.  “Is that _ seriously  _ all you got from that?”  Alexander said, terse.

“ _ Well what else am I supposed to take from that?  Herc’s dealing with Lafayette’s  _ literal _ breakdown right now over this, and you’re just - _ ” there was a harsh breath, “ _ just what - playing house with Jeffershit instead of being there for your  _ actual _ friends _ ?”

“Thomas  _ is _ an ‘actual’ friend of mine, John - I thought we were over this.”

“ _ No, Alex - he’s  _ not. _  You just want to fuck him, like all your  _ other _ ‘crushes’.  And yeah - we  _ were _ over it until it got to the point punches were being thrown! _ ”  John yelled, his voice ringing in Alexander’s ears and Alexander clenched his jaw, enraged.

“Look, I didn’t - you can’t just, ugh - I don’t want to just  _ fuck him _ ,” and that he whispered, low and angry and too quiet for any listening ears to pick up on, “he’s actually fun to be around -”

“ _ What, and we’re not _ ?’  John accused.

“That’s not what I fucking meant and you know it!”  Alexander snapped out.

“ _ Then fucking prove it and get your ass over here. _ ”  John said, a dangerous thread lining his voice.

“Right now?”  Alexander asked, and he knew it was the wrong thing to say - but Thomas was making dinner and from the look of things, Thomas  _ didn’t _ have any other friends to call over.  He’d feel guilty leaving the man alone.

“ _ Yes, right fucking now! _ ”  John yelped, Alexander holding the phone away for a second to save himself the headache later.

“I can’t just leave Thomas by himself, I don’t think he has any other -”

“ _ Holy fucking shit.  Really _ ?”  John asked, exasperated.  “ _ You’re seriously going to pull that _ ?”

“Pull what, John?  The guy honestly has like no-”

“ _ Why is this so fucking important to you _ ?   _ Your  _ real  _ friend needs you and you’re too busy to be bothered because you’re thinking with your dick. _ ”

Alexander’s face heated with anger, and his fingers clenched around his phone.  “John, I don’t understand why you’re being so fucking pissed about this - I thought you were fine with it.”  Alexander said, keeping his tone levelled.

“ _ I  _ was _ \- or I thought I could be.  But I can’t, and fuck you if you’re going to be a bitch about that.  You didn’t see how bad Laf was. _ ”  John’s voice turned a tired edge, low and Alexander sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry it got out of hand, but that doesn’t mean you can just -”

“ _ What-the-fuck-ever, Alex.  Enjoy your god damned boyfriend. _ ”

“He’s not my -”  The line went dead, and Alexander blinked at the dots flashing the time of the call.  He made a short angry sound, launching his phone into the couch and flopping himself hard against the back of the cushions.  He scrubbed at his face, irritation bubbling hot in his chest, and he wanted to scream into a pillow.

And he was aiming to do so - reaching for the next available cushion off the couch when he heard a throat clearing.

He peeked through the fingers still plastered over his eyes, and met the disconcerted look on Thomas’ face.  The man was holding two bowls of mac n’ cheese, standing in front of where Alexander was sitting and his visible discomfort aided in subsiding his anger, if just a little.

“So…”  Thomas began, looking off to the side and Alexander bit his lip, uncurling his body and scooting to the far side of the couch.

“Mac n’ cheese again?”  Alexander asked, cutting through whatever question was forming as Thomas sat down, shooting wary looks Alexander’s way.

Thomas handed him a bowl, looking down into his own and Alexander did his best to not look at the swells still very prominent on his face.  At least his cheek and nose were bandaged now.

“I like it.  It’s my comfort food.”  Thomas admitted with a small shrug, and Alexander frowned when his heart pulled at the words.

Alexander prodded at the gooey food with his fork, legs folded close to him as he stared down at the coffee table.  “Thought you didn’t want to eat on your nice clean couch.” Alexander said, and Thomas made a strange sort of sound that Alexander figured was supposed to be a snort.  The wince of pain on the Virginian’s face had guilt churn heavily, but it confirmed it was indeed trying to be a snort.

“I’ll make an exception.”  Thomas said after a moment, gingerly taking a bite of his food around the busted lip.  

Alexander nodded, eyes glancing over the living room, in all its southern touch glory and lingered on the paintings that seemed to be hung everywhere, all with the same style.  His head tilted, and he studied the brush strokes, still tapping away at his food and a thought struck him.

“Are you… are you a painter?”  He asked, sudden in the silence of the room, and he saw the stiffening of Thomas’ shoulder through his periphery.

Thomas made some choked sound as he coughed, shooting Alexander a nervous glance, “w-what?”  He managed to ask.

Alexander chuckled a little, taking a bite of his food and pointing his fork at the Virginian.  “So you  _ are  _ a painter.  Nadine had extras my ass, you painted them.”

“I never said I painted them.”  Thomas said too fast, and Alexander quirked a brow.  “Okay, yes I painted them.” The man drawled, cheeks flushed.  Alexander liked the look, thought it was a far better sight than the drawn pain.

“Cool.  You’re good at it.  You ever sell any?” Alexander asked, and Thomas shrugged.  Alexander figured he’d appreciate the subject, a distraction from today's events.

“Naw, I only paint because Nadine forces me too.  Says I’m a waste of talent.” Thomas said.

“Uh-huh.”  Alexander said, looking to all the paintings strewn about.  “You _ really  _ just paint because of her?  She just seems to ask you all the time, then.  Wow.” Alexander said, not really believing Thomas’ explanation, a casual glance the taller man's way.

“I do… dabble in it when I have time.”  Thomas said, muttering around his fork as he carefully shoved food into his mouth, dodging the cut on his lip.  Alexander kept his eyes averted from the scene, uncomfortable whenever he spared a glance too long.

“That’s cool.”  Alexander looked back to his food, then to the room and took in with all its homely attributes, how lonely it all was.  His heart panged with the imagery of Thomas all by himself, painting with only a cat to keep him company.

He stabbed his fork into his food, leaving it holding up and looking up at Thomas.  Once again he shocked a little at finding the Virginian’s eyes on him, even after everything that happened, and his stomach flipped.  He cleared his throat, looking to the painting of a town in what Alexander surmised was seventeenth century.

“I see you paint victorian era a lot - also a shit ton of farms.”  He pointed to the farmland scene hung by a bookshelf. “Seriously, you’re grossly southern.”

Thomas gave a soft laugh.  “I like the older times, they seemed… simpler.”

Alexander quirked a brow up at him. 

“Okay, not the social policies of then, but - it was just.”  Thomas set his fork down, sighed and raked a hand through his hair.  “Sure there was a social pressure to keep up appearances and a family name but - you could just, choose a profession and  _ live  _ it.  You didn’t need to worry about the world, you could be a farmer and just toil land, or be a painter and no one would judge you - it was  _ your _ life, if you wanted it to be.”  Thomas seemed to be struggling for his point, grasping the air, and Alexander titled his head.

“But it’s not any different now, you can do that - be a farmer or a painter or what the fuck ever, nothing’s different.  Just technology, really.” Alexander said with a shrug, and Thomas shot him an odd look.

“Yeah, technology doesn’t make escapin’ a family name any easier.  The rich only got richer, and back then no one gave a shit about the youngest son.”  Thomas said, and his words made Alexander think.

The shorter man looked down to his lap, to the two bowls of mac n cheese sitting on the coffee table.  

“Are you running from your family?”  He asked, and Thomas was quiet a moment.

“I was.”  The Virginian said, soft, and Alexander wondered what that meant.

He leaned into Thomas’ space, just enough to catch the man’s eyes.  “And you aren’t now?” Alexander asked.

Thomas chuckled lightly, and Alexander swallowed when Thomas lilted forward, until they were only so far apart.  “I guess I still am.” Thomas was silent, and for a moment they enjoyed the shared proximity. “But they forgot me a while ago.”

“And you’re fine with that?  Throwing all that money and power away?”

Thomas shrugged.  “Better that way.”

Alexander laughed at that, looking down with a snicker, and Thomas butted the top of his head with a hand.  “What?” The southerner snapped, and Alexander looked up and this time didn’t flinch at how close he was to the other man.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s serious and thanks for sharing and all that shit,” Alexander gave a small one armed shrug, “and you’re being  _ way  _ too nice to me for what I did earlier but like…”  Alexander glanced over the busted lip and bandaged cheek and nose, landing deep brown eyes that made his heart stutter with the mix of emotions in their depth.

“But like?”  Thomas pressed, voice a low drawl that had Alexander’s mind muddling and the shorter man leaned close until their foreheads brushed.  A warm thrill under his skin when Thomas pushed into the contact.

“I don’t know, what you just said, what you’ve been  _ doing, _ ” Alexander pressed, “painting, making coffee, being a not shit person -”

“What shining recommendations you make of me,” Thomas drawled.

Alexander bumped his head a little with his own, “shut up - you’re okay with throwing away millions of dollars and influence.”

“So?”  Thomas asked, breath warm across Alexander’s lips.

“You’re different.  Old you would have never even thought of it.”  Alexander reached the hand not supporting his weight to place a tentative grasp in the fabric of Thomas’ shirt, right over his heart.  “And that’s a little scary, I guess, you being different - because I don’t know why.” Alexander admitted, and his eyes shifted to look down to his hand.

Thomas placed a hand over Alexander’s on his chest, and the man bumped his forehead against the shorter until Alexander met his gaze.  “I’d tell you if I could but… it’s raw still - years since but, I never - I never faced what happened and seeing Lafayette today just…”  It was Thomas’ turn to avoid his gaze this time.

“I’m sorry about that.  I should have never -”

Thomas cut through him, “It’s fine.  You were - trying. It’s better than anyone’s done for me in a long time.”  Thomas said, soft, and his eyes met Alexander’s, raw and open, and Alexander’s breath caught in his throat, lost in Thomas’ gaze.

For lack of anything else to say, Alexander mumbled dumbly, “Nadine would probably fight you on that statement, from what she’s told me.”

Thomas chuckled, and lifted a hand to brush a stray hair out of Alexander’s face, behind his ear, causing Alexander’s mind to take a momentary vacation.  “Yeah, but… with you it’s different. Means more.”

Alexander smiled at that.  “Yeah, how’s that?” He asked, meeting Thomas eyes head on. 

“You’re a little shit but you  _ knew  _ me, then, and you’re here now and that - it,” Thomas struggled to find the right words, “it means maybe I can do better -  _ be _ better.”

“Yeah?”  Alexander said, soft, leaning more into Thomas.

“Yeah.”  Thomas agreed, and within a moment which Alexander had thusly decided to have forever engraved in his mind, Thomas leaned forward and connected their lips.

And it was - 

“Fuck,  _ ow, _ ” Thomas leaned back suddenly, the hand that wasn’t still cradling Alexander’s face holding his busted lip and Alexander blinked slowly.

“What?”  Alexander said, slow and a little out of it because  _ hello  _ they just  _ kissed  _ and Alexander could still feel the tingle of it down to his toes.

“Shit, fuck, my lip - I shouldn’t, I’m sorry -” Thomas stammered, and the man leant back, hands slipping from Alexander’s face and Alexander’s brain was still playing catch up.

It wasn’t until Thomas was standing and nearly tripping over his coffee table that Alexander understood what was happening.  He jumped up, hands flailing out to impede the Virginian’s escape. “Hey - hey wait -”

“I’m going to just, you can - see yourself out if you want -” Thomas was saying, stumbling over his words, face scarlet and eyes wide.

“No, it’s, it was  _ fine _ , I liked it!”  Alexander rushed out, and Thomas paused.

A beat passed, just the two men staring each other down in mock western gunslinger ways, except one appeared ready to flee and the other frazzled.  “What?” Thomas asked, quiet and disbelieving.

“I,” Alexander paused, face warm and he shrugged, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, “I liked it.  It was - it was nice. Fine.”

Thomas swallowed, tongue jutting out a moment to swipe the tender skin of his busted lip, and Alexander fidgeted.  “Oh.” Was all Thomas said, and Alexander felt dread begin to settle in his gut at the despondent glaze overtaking Thomas’ eyes.  “That’s, that’s good.”

Alexander didn’t have to be a genius to know the  _ but  _ that was going to follow.

“I can’t - not right now.”  Thomas said, low and quiet and Alexander’s heart took a dive.  “I’m sorry, it’s just - I’m. It’s not you, it’s just - too much.  Right now.” Thomas stuttered over his words, low like a mumble, and Alexander closed his eyes and breathed deep.

“That’s okay.”  Alexander said, and even though it wasn’t, it was.  Because it had to be - because it only made sense. And if he thought otherwise he might cry, and he wouldn’t.  Not in front of Thomas - the man didn’t deserve that.

Today had just been fucking awful.

“You’re okay, don’t worry.  I understand.” Alexander repeated, much softer this time, as he took slow controlled steps towards the Virginian, like one would a wounded animal.  He had his palms up and out in supplication, and was careful to keep note of every jostled panicked emotion that flitted through Thomas’ eyes.

Thomas swallowed, a hard sound that had Alexander wincing but he kept on until they were a good feet apart, and his neck twinged as he kept eye contact with the man.  “I’m sorry.” Thomas said again, voice cracking and Alexander wanted to scream and punch more than one thing because if the southerner kept that up he’d be crying too and he just - he can’t.

“It’s fine.”  Alexander said again, mustering every distant memory he had of any parental figure to make his voice as soothing as possible.  “You’re not ready yet and that’s absolutely okay.” It wasn’t. “Emotions are high and you’re not in the best head space, so why don’t you just, sit down and I’ll go make you some tea, okay?”  Alexander risked reaching to grab at Thomas’ arm and tug him to side down. He ignored the almost violent twitch the man gave but softened when Thomas relented.

“Okay.”  Thomas said, nodding, and Alexander wanted to pet through his hair, but refrained from even entertaining the notion as he set about making tea.

“Chamomile or Earl Grey?”  Alexander called from the kitchen.

It took a few moments of Alexander steadying his breathing but eventually Thomas replied.

“Chamomile.”  

Alexander tossed the packet in the hot water and shook it about, before rummaging through cabinets for honey and maybe putting more than necessary into the drink.  After he was satisfied he took it over to the man who looked more than shaken up. “Here.” He said, pressing it into Thomas’ hands and glad when the Virginian took it, taking a small sip.

Thomas made a strange sound, and spoke over the rim.  “Too much honey.”

Alexander sighed but kept his patience.  “I have never made tea before.” Was all he said in reply and Thomas didn’t seem to want any more info as he kept on sipping on the too sweet drink.

“You’re different too.”  Thomas said after a decent amount of silence, long after Alexander sat down on the couch a comfortable - safe - distance from Thomas.

Alexander hummed a little, looking up at Thomas through his missed bangs and crossing his arms a little tighter around himself.

“Back then you were… immature.”

Alexander took offense but didn’t say anything.

Thomas shook his head, as if sensing the disagreement from Alexander.  “Not in a bad way… you were just. So focused on your own goals, on your world - nothing outside of it mattered.  Didn’t come close in importance to what you wanted.” Thomas said, dangerously close to rambling and if his words stirred up uncomfortable memories Alexander didn’t say anything.

But they did.

It was a source of contempt between him and Eliza, how orientated he was, how focused and unbudging he was.  It pricked to know Thomas of all people noticed back then too.

“I remember how you would pass by people struggling, and it wasn’t that you didn’t care you just - didn’t notice.  You were a rocket compared to us, to me, and nothing I did could keep up with your accomplishments.” Thomas’ words had Alexander shocked and wide eyed.

“... what?”  Alexander said after a moment.  Thomas thought - thought such of him back in uni?

“But you’ve slowed down now.  And not in a bad way either.” Thomas finally looked over at him, and it irked Alexander his eyes were still so guarded.  “You notice things, about people. And you take care of what you say or do, most of the time. And that’s - that’s scary for me.  To know you’re observing me. Trying to find me out. It’s scary.” Thomas said, having reached his conclusion he went back to staring at his now cold tea and sipping at it.

Alexander didn’t know what to make of this information.  “I -“ he began, but what could he possibly say? “It’s late.”  He finally conceded on, and Thomas nodded, and if his voice was thick the Virginian didn’t say anything.

“If you want to go home or stop talking to me I understand.”  Thomas said, and Alexander would muster a snort if he wasn’t feeling so numb now.

He wasn’t going to stop talking to Thomas, not because of this - no matter how much it fucking hurt.

And go home to a possibly ready to murder him now John?

“I’ll stay.”  Alexander said, and he inflected it with enough meaning that he hoped Thomas would understand.  If the tension that drained from his shoulders was any indication, then the message was received.

Thomas stood up abruptly, enough to make Alexander jump.

“It’s not late but I’m going to, to go to bed.  Your pajamas are in the hamper by the bathroom.”  Was all Thomas said before tumbling out of the room, food cold and mostly untouched and Alexander couldn’t even be touched by the wording of his pajamas.

With robotic movements he put the food up and washed the dishes, and it wasn’t until all the lights were off and he was lying on the couch that he broke.  Tears sliding hot and fast down his cheeks and it was stupid - Thomas didn’t reject him, he just wasn’t ready - but it  _ felt  _ like it and today had already been emotional enough.

He fucked up enough for two lifetimes and his friends were pissed and with the leave date so close wasn’t that just spectacular timing?  Thomas kissed him but - maybe - didn’t really mean it, and now Alexander wanted to jump in a hole. He would’ve debated it if not for Marmie’s solid presence on his chest, and he glared at the old cat.

“You should be with Thomas.”  He hissed at her, but she only made a soft meow as she stared at him wide eyed and unblinking.

“He’s the one with the emotional breakdown.”  While true, his own words were broken through with proof of Alexander’s own, with the stuffy nose and cracked voice.  The cat, as if sensing his discomfort meowed again and butted his chin with her head, purring loudly, and Alexander wouldn’t admit to how the action actually worked a little.

He set a tentative hand to her back, scratching lightly, and the cat appeared pleased to all hell.  At least someone was today.

-

Alexander woke with a jolt, the fabrications of his dreams distancing from him and he struggled to sit up, careful of the cat settled between his legs.  The morning sunlight struggled to shine through the buildings and slip between the blinds Thomas had on all his windows. He squinted his eyes, balancing his weight on his hands while he stared out in confusion.

He almost existed in blissful ignorance before his brain recalled the events of yesterday and last night, and he pressed a tentative touch to his lips, gut dropping and cheeks burning.  Ah, that whole clusterfuck. Worse made by the minds image of a busted lip, crooked nose and swollen cheek.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair before dislodging the cat and setting his feet on the carpeted ground, toes curling with a yawn.  Alright - he could do this. He rummaged around for his phone, finding it halfway buried between couch cushions and tangled in his blanket.

It’s notification lights were blinking, a vicious little blue dot that had Alexander squirming where he sat.  It was almost seven am, terribly early but sleep was never easy when his heart and mind went through a full day workout of not so fun stuff.

And it was also Sunday.

He blinked, listening to how absolutely silent and still the apartment was sans the cat now weaving his legs and asking for attention.  Had Thomas?

He stood up, clicking his phone screen shot because he was a pussy and he didn’t want to face reality yet.  Or the veritable shitstorm John had most likely sent his way.

“Tho-” he stopped, swallowed, and cleared his throat.  “Thomas?” He said, with a far more sure tone and devoid of any negative emotion still wrecking his forefront.  Nothing in response, not even the jostle of items from Thomas’ room. He grabbed at his arm, digging his fingers in and slowing his breath.

Okay - fine.  This was fine.  He nodded to himself, stumbling into the kitchen and ignoring the cat that casually trotted behind him.

She meowed, and he would have sent a glare her way if he cared too because couldn’t she understand that he didn’t want company?  Thomas left some time in buttfuck o-clock early, to who knows where, and left Alexander to his own miserable devices.

The cat meowed louder, and Alexander didn’t even know the creature could sound urgent.

“What?”  He snapped out, turning to look at the small animal that seemed to be sending him her own version of a glare.

Upon gathering his attention she moved to her food bowl and sat down, looking to him with wide, expectant eyes.

“Oh, he didn’t feed you.”  Alexander mumbled dumbly, and that had him more on edge.  Thomas, from what he gathered from the man’s behaviours and Nadine’s words, adored the animal.  The Virginian must really be out of it to forget.

He swallowed down his guilt and went to where Thomas kept her horribly expensive food - some fancy brand Alexander didn’t bother to remember - and frowned when it was way out of his reach.  He scowled, pointing to the cat when she went to meow again, “look, some of us, unlike your gangly ass owner, are vertically challenged, give me a moment here.”

Dragging a chair over he clambered onto the counter comfortably, grabbing the bag and dropping it unceremoniously onto the ground.  Next to where the bag of food was before Alexander’s gracious toss was a white paper bag, and he hummed. “You have to take medicine, right.”  He looked to the cat, and she simply meowed and Alexander almost smiled at that.

“You know what, you’re pretty good at conversation.”  Alexander said, vying for a reply and the cat licked her paw, looking at him as she swiped over her face.  “What, nothing to say to the man risking his life to feed you here? If I fall you won’t get your medicine, and my head will be too busy being cracked and bleeding to help you out with your lack of opposable thumbs.”

The cat mewled, an odd throaty sound, and Alexander rolled his eyes.

“I’m talking to a cat again.  And standing on a counter, which is weird, because I’m short, but not that short, but then again he has some tall fucking ceilings for an apartment complex.”  Alexander rambled, but he tended to when he was nervous or upset and he was a bit of both, in the apprehensive silence of the apartment. With Thomas currently AWOL and his friends none too pleased with him, he had plenty reason to be.

Martha meowed again, more agitated, and he figured she wanted him to get on with the pouring food process that she unfortunately could not.  As it was, she was scratching uselessly at the food bags opening, claws ineffectual against the sleek material.

“Right, right, let me just -”

“I leave for a half hour and you’ve turned to burglary and insanity.”

Alexander jumped, missing his foot landing the chair as he was in the process of climbing and stumbled to the ground, landing butt first on hard linoleum and cursing as his head bumped into the wood of the drawer doors behind him.  The cat did a screeching sort of sound before zipping off far too fast for something her age, and Alexander must have scared her, he thought listlessly through the pain.

“Shit, you okay?”  Thomas said, suddenly in his vision and setting down two drinks on the counter before a hand was pulling him forward and the other pushing hair out of the way.  Alexander was still blinking dots out of his vision to do anything but follow along. “Good, you’re not bleeding.”

“I was trying to feed your cat.”  Alexander said, and he wasn’t too sure what was going on, or if he was still sleeping and he was having a really weird second dream.

Thomas chuckled, “I figured that much.”  A hand was outstretched in Alexander’s face, and he grabbed onto it as he was hauled to his feet.  “But she’s not supposed to eat before eight so.” He was careful to not tumble into Thomas’ - the man was too strong for his own good - and stabilized himself on the counter behind.  If the readiness Thomas released his hand and stepped back himself was anything to go off, the southerner was still reeling from the night before.

At least he was in a better mood, judging by the purchased coffee drinks.

Everything was quiet for a moment.

“ - got you some coffee - “  Thomas spewed out.

“ - sorry about last night - “  Alexander said fast.

They both blinked at each other, the other’s words registering, before soft chuckles took them both.

“You...  _ really _ shouldn’t be apologizing for last night.”  Thomas said eventually, leaning against the counter behind him as well, and they both mimicked the crossed arm look everywhere but each other method of conversation.

Alexander snorted.  “No, I really should, considering the bullshit that lead up to it.”  He rubbed at his arm, looking to the over the top whipped cream coffee that must be his, and he took it gingerly, only shooting one cautious look Thomas’ way before the man with his freakishly long arms grabbed his own without having to move all that much.

Thomas shrugged, “we covered those topics.  I, on the other hand,” Thomas trailed off, and Alexander did his best to ignore the darkening of his cheeks before Thomas scrubbed a hand down his face, a huff of frustration.  “It was stupid, what I did. And I’m sorry.” Thomas said, finality in his tone, and the Virginian made sure to meet his eyes with the words, sincerity in their brown hues and Alexander would have preferred stubbing his toe to this.

Alexander swallowed numbly around his straw, careful to control his features.  “It’s fine, I didn’t completely hate it.” And before Thomas could read too much into that, Alexander forced a smirk, “it was like kissing a conservative old lady, a really sad one who just needed someone as dashing as I to show her she’s still got it.”  He did a dramatic hand to his chest, looking to the side and feeling relieved when Thomas gave a strange laugh.

“Okay, don’t rub it in.  I wasn’t in the right mind set.”  Thomas said, and Alexander finally found the courage to meet his eyes.

“Glad to know you have to be stricken with god knows what to kiss this.”  Alexander alluded to himself, laughing, and Thomas crossed his arms and pulled a face.

“Alexander, the day I kiss you make sure to check my ass into a institute, thanks.”

Hurtful but whatever.  Alexander could see what Thomas was trying to do - get them to a semblance of normalcy, put that little… mishap, behind them.

Alexander could get behind that, even though he sort of wanted to fling himself down a flight of stairs.

“Oh, don’t worry Thomas, they wouldn’t be able to find a body to even debate turning you into the authorities.”  Alexander shot back and Thomas chuckled.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”  Thomas said, and okay - this was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I’m a good person.
> 
> They’re so close to getting together _so close_
> 
> Also I don’t think I’ll get an update out this Sunday, but I certainly will next Sunday!


End file.
